All In A Day
by GreenRock
Summary: Chapter Twelve: Since the author is a liar because he clearly cannot stick to deadlines that he sets himself, he offers this chapter as a peace offering. Buy your pitchforks, torches and other miscellaneous items here.
1. Prolouge: The Last Hour

_I do not own the Teen Titans and I am not affiliated to the TT in any way. The only original thing here is the idea which came from my own head. :D_

_Enjoy!_

**Prologue: The Last Hour**

**Monday 24****th**** September . . .**

**Time: **_4:12:24 am_

Nothing would usually bring the citizens of Jump City out from their beds, make them leave there place of residence and congregate to one specific place in the metropolitan area. Nothing accept for the daunting, unimaginable, and all together, shocking sight of the Titans Tower, billowing with the combination of thick, black smoke and raging, roaring fires.

Thousands . . . No, tens of thousands of pairs of eyes stood in awe of the Tower; a building that, to the denizens of Jump City, was a symbol of truth, righteousness, justice, security. A symbol which allowed the people to gaze on with pride and reassurance that they would be protected from the evil and malice that threatened the city on a daily occurrence. A building that offered hope to those who were; defenceless, those who were afraid to sleep at night with the trepidation that they may end up becoming (what the inhabitants of the now smouldering tower protected and aided in their times of need) victims, to those whose lives were ever in peril and whoever was threatened, no matter how big, or how small the terror was. A building that belonged to the five greatest teen superheroes that Jump City, the state, the country, the continent . . . Hell, even the whole world had ever seen or heard of; Robin, Starfire, Raven, BeastBoy and Cyborg.

Each and every single one of them had pledged their allegiance to protecting Jump City from any evil entity that threatened to corrupt, cripple or carnalise the citizens' homes, progression of the city or the citizens themselves.

The building that had been the beacon of everything that symbolised the optimum of mankind and the hope of not only of a better tomorrow or a harmonious year . . . but for an ever growing hope in all of Jump City that, the future of Jump City, would one day be glorious enough to stand up against the evil that plagued the concrete jungle, and eradicate it for good.

But now, all the hope, the positivity, the belief that the citizens could go to bed at night without having to sleep with both eyes open . . . _that_, had truly been eradicated.

This could not be happening . . . this has to be a dream . . . no one could be callous enough to destroy Titans Tower. But there was one person who showed that they were capable. The one person that was the true symbol of evil, the human embodiment of Beelzebub himself, the entity that whilst it was ever present in Jump City, the citizens would never rest easy, never go to sleep at night without the ever present fear, gnawing at them like rats to a blood drenched carcass.

The Face.

It was The Face that was the cause of the terror that had plagued the city for as long as the Titans had been inhabiting the very building that the masses had gathered to watch crumble, disintegrate and perish right before them.

For too long now, The Face had never rested until Jump City was theirs and the Titans were no longer present; not only in Jump City itself, the state, the continent or the country for that matter of fact, even the whole world . . . but were no longer present in existence. However, no matter how hard The Face had tried to bring the Titans, and indeed the citizens of Jump City down to their knees, The Face had never succeeded.

Despite being in hiding for a brief period of time, The Face re-emerged and despite all the best efforts that the Titans had put into preventing this evil son of a bitch from taking over Jump City, they failed.

Jump City was under the thumb of The Face for a month, along with the assistance of his fellow villainous lackeys. If anything, The Faces' lackeys were the real ones who had made Jump City surrender to his will, without ever getting involved himself. But that was how The Face always operated best. He would let his companions do all the dirty work for him and reap the rewards himself. Never lifting a finger. The malice, the desire, the blood thirst, the manipulative, cold, calculating bastard he was. Not even the small times villains; Mumbo Jumbo, Mad Mod, Johnny Rancid, Adonis et cetera . . . dared to show their faces when The Face had reigned supreme over the city. The all went into recluse and dared not to re-appear until The Face had been overthrown . . . if he ever was overthrown that is.

Eventually, he was. The Teen Titans had regrouped, and together, they defeated The Face after a confrontation that occurred in an underground cave where The Face had been operating from all the time. The story had been released that during an active volcano, the evil that terrorised, that haunted Jump City for a month, had perished and would never return to plague the city again.

For the next eighteen months, every citizen of Jump City were safe, secure in the knowledge that The Face was gone from the city . . . correction, the world, and that they would never have to worry about this disease infecting the heart of the city ever again. However, this sense of security would inevitably turn out to be false.

After the Titans had returned from the arduous, torturous and laborious battle against the Brotherhood of Evil and their conflict in Tokyo with the ink-behemoth called Brushogun, which (in total) lasted a total of seven months; it was not long before denizens of Jump City began to claim that The Face has returned. The claims began first off with sightings made by people who were either; homeless, inebriated, under the influence of drugs or children. No one took these claims seriously . . . until the Titans confirmed shortly after these claims had begun to spring up, that the possibility that The Face had in fact returned, were very probable.

The citizens were all told to be fully vigilant wherever they went and to alert the authorities immediately if they were to spot The Face, which the authorities would alert the Teen Titans immediately. Despite the pleas from the Jump City Police Department and the Titans, a large chunk of denizens refused to believe that the disease that had once roamed their metropolitan paradise, had returned. It was only until a few short hours ago that all the doubters and non-believers had finally accepted the reality . . . The Face had returned.

An ever growing gasp of shock rose throughout the night from the people who gathered along the sea bank as the top right hand side of the Titans Tower infrastructure and finally collapsed and began its descent, down to the island where it stood. The smouldering pile of metal met with the ground and released the sound of impact which echoed from the small island in the middle of the Jump City waters to the ears of the denizens. Not one peep came from anybody once impact had been made. All were too stupefied to move, make a noise, or even blink.

It was well known that twice every day, the tide would be low enough to create a small track that would allow the Titans to make their way from the small island to the city. This track would be able to allow the Jump City Fire Department to get their fire trucks from the city, to island, no qualms whatsoever. Unfortunately, the track would not be formed until six-thirty-five a.m. give or take a few minutes here or there. There was nothing that could be done to prevent the tower from burning even more until another two hours. All there was to do, was stand and gape is horror as the tower; the symbol of peace, comfort and (most importantly) hope, was left to burn.

If there was any more reason for the structure of the denizens' last fragment of hope to be crushed even more, it was that the Titans themselves were coping just as miserably as the now ruined tower was.

The local news stations had reported hours ago, the story that one of the Fearless Five had been reported missing and another had been 'incapacitated'. The reporters were not letting onto or even hinting to whom the two were, but rumours were flying around quickly after these announcements. And if the citizens of Jump City knew anything about rumours, it was that they were not to be taken lightly by any stretch of the imagination . . . especially after recent rumours concerning The Face.

The citizens were thrown into another wave of shock as an explosion catapulted from the left-hand side of the tower. The sight of fire, smoke, disfigured metal and shattered glass, rained all across the sky. The moon had officially been blackened by the smoke.

The thousands, upon thousands of eyes were now fixated upon the two lone figures that stood at the foot of the tower. The denizens of the terrorised city could only begin to wonder what on earth was going through their minds at this moment in time.

***Meanwhile***

Glass, debris and dust literally showered over the two heroes. The only thing protecting them from being entirely coated in this filth, were the torn remains of a navy blue cape that did its best to protect the purple haired empath and the orange tanned Tamaranian.

To accompany the sound of the shards of glass tinkering all around them and sound of metal screaming as it bent, twisted and disintegrated, were the sounds of the two heroines weeping.

The two of them no longer knew what they were weeping about. Were they weeping because their once beloved home was now a burning wreck that would be beyond all possibility to restore? Were they weeping because of the turbulence, tribulation, pain, suffering, agony and emotional scarring that they had endured within the last twenty-four hours? Were they weeping because they had not heard a peep from any of their male comrades for a worryingly long time and that they had possibly succumbed to the same devastating fate that so many other people . . . innocent people, had already suffered? Were they weeping because the looming cloud of defeat had almost certainly covered them and they could not find any source of light to pull them from their despair? Were they weeping because they felt that they had let the entire city down; failed in their duties to protect the thousands who had so willingly thrust their lives into their hands, but have let so many, if not, all of them down? Or were they weeping because of all of those things? Whatever it was, neither of the two girls could come up with an answer to their 'sixty-four thousand dollar question'.

Raven began to inch her eyes open ever so slightly. It felt like an eternity before she had opened her eyes fully, her vision blurred by her tears. Around herself and Starfire lay a great mass of ash, dust, glass and small, shattered pieces of metal. She forced her eyes from the debris that surrounded her and looked up at an even more destructive sight. Blinking away her tears, she saw the top part of the tower was no more. All that stood was a simple, vertical line that was billowing smoke and flame from both sides. It had gone from a T, to an I.

Cradled underneath her cape was a shivering, frightened wreck of a Tamaranian princess. Starfire, the fearless warrior from the planet Tamaran, soon to become the empress of her home planet one day, had been reduced to a quaking entity. All her life, straight from childhood to the blossoming young woman she was rapidly becoming, she was taught to never allow herself to succumb to such a state, to compose herself in the face of adversity no mater what, and she was to remain completely fearless, brave and true against all those who opposed her. Tonight however, she took no notice of her teachings and allowed herself to feel the sorrow that had been dwelling inside her for so long. Over the past twenty-four hours, no one could blame her. But inside, she felt the slightest tinge of disappointment . . . in herself. She was ashamed that she had allowed herself to come to this point, she was ashamed that she had not suppressed such negative emotion and held them back like the brave warrior that she was raised to be, she was ashamed that she felt so useless during a time where she had to be at her strongest.

Raven forced her self to her feet, hoisting up Starfire with her, who reluctantly joined Raven on her feet. Raven began to walk towards the tower, however this time; it was Starfire who was holding her . . . holding her back.

Through her raspy voice, now layered with the choked back emotion that lingered in the back of her throat, Raven pleaded to her friend "Starfire . . . please . . . let me go".

Starfire held Raven's gaze. Her bloodshot eyes, overflowing with tears met with those of the empath, whose purple orbs imitated that of Starfire's. Starfire saw that the right side of Raven's face was lightly dusted with a coating of soot, which had one, single, solitary trace, resembling a tear, running down her face.

Starfire, responded to Raven's plea with a shake of her head.

"Star . . . please, I'm begging you" Raven begun to try and pull herself away from her alien friend. Lack of strength and all round fatigue, drained her pulling power. "I have to go inside to make sure that . . ."

"Please forgive me Raven" Starfire responded before Raven had the chance to finish. Starfire tightened her grip as best as she could. She too was suffering from extreme exhaustion and her grip was considerably weaker than it usually was. Usually, her grip would have be bone crashing, literally bone crushing, but this time, her grip resembled that of a baby holding onto its parent. Starfire concluded her sentence throughout a series of sniffles, "I . . . cannot allow you . . . to risk your life by . . ."

"STARFIRE" Raven responded forcefully, stinging the back of her throat.

Starfire was automatically rocked by Raven's sudden outburst and loosened her grip slightly. Now the tears started flowing even quicker down Starfire's cheeks.

Barely allowing herself time to feel any remorse, Raven continued with her sentence "For the last time . . . I not asking anymore. I will be going . . . into the tower. And you won't . . . stop me. Understand?"

The cold, clinical tone of Raven's voice cut through Starfire like a knife. Starfire noticed that tears were running rather rapidly down Raven's face also, maybe even quicker than Starfire's.

Starfire knew exactly why Raven wanted to go into the tower. In Raven's position, Starfire would be doing and saying exactly the same thing as Raven. But Starfire had had enough. She had enough of people dying around her, she had enough of having the heavy burden of peoples overwhelming expectations draping on her shoulders and inevitably disappointing them, she had enough of today.

Mustering everything inside her, Starfire begun "Friend Raven . . . I do understand why you wish to go into the tower. But I cannot allow you to do so.

"I have done much of the suffering today as have you. Please do not make me suffer even more"

Neither Raven nor Starfire could stop themselves.

Raven could not stop herself from inching closing towards the inferno that continued to consume the tower. Her home.

Starfire could not stop herself from her tears and persistence in restraining her friend from she believed to be certain death.

"Star, let go" Raven said as she tried to wriggle free from her friends strengthening clasp.

"I will do no such thing" Starfire retaliated, now being dragged along by Raven.

"Let . . . go . . . NOW"

The forcefulness of Raven's last word sent an almighty surge of dark energy from her body which sent Starfire flying off her.

Starfire flew through the air and eventually tumbled to the ground before colliding with the now defunct T-Ship that lay strewn across a grassy area, completely and utterly decimated.

Before she could take another step, the top half of the tower burst into flames before exploding like a firework, which caused Raven to slink down to the ground.

Disbelief, dubiety and depression had finally sunk into Raven. The top half of the tower proceeded to disintegrate and collapse. The debris and infrastructure toppled backwards, leaving the bottom half of an, almost entirely destroyed tower, erect as an ash cloud rose form behind.

All Raven could do was kneel upon the ground in, what could be best described, as . . . Defeat.

She remained on her knees. She had now completely surrendered herself to the tears. Shaking her head she whispered 'No', over and over and over.

Starfire cracked open her eyes. She looked in upmost horror as the tower was almost, completely destroyed. Her home had been reduced to half its size.

Along with the sound of the crackling fires, the remaining metal, groaning and twisting before it would eventually buckle and break, and the sobs that Starfire emitted, she heard one voice. She knew who that voice belonged to. It belonged to that of her empathetic friend. That voice said a name. A name that shattered Starfire's heart into a thousand piece, even smaller than the glass shards surrounding her. It said . . . no, more likely, screamed . . .

"BEASTBOY!"

***Elsewhere***

The bitter taste of the concrete ground, which was lathered in dust, dirt and detritus, along with the blood that was raining from his forehead, lingered all around Robin's mouth, as he lay face down; battered, bruised, bloodied and beaten.

Every breath that the hero took felt as though someone was constantly sticking a searing, red hot knife through his chest and into his lungs. His heart rate was racing so rapidly, it felt like at any second, it would explode.

His eyes glazed over towards the figure that stood ten feet away from him. Step by step, the figure inched ever so tardily towards Robin, arms behind his back and an almost silent cackle emerging from his mouth.

Between laboured breaths and moments of near unconsciousness, Robin's ears picked up on a sound. It was the sound that Robin (though he would never admit it), the intimidated him more than anything in world.

The cackle.

The same evocative sound that echoed in Robin's mind whenever he slept . . . or shut his eyes from a nanosecond. The same cackle that he grew accustomed to . . . no matter much it sickened him. The cackle that poisoned his every sense, sent icy cold chills down his spine whenever he heard that toxic laughter, that haunted him night and day . . . and maybe, (though he prayed it would never reach that stage) into _The Beyond_.

The figures footsteps protruded all throughout the walls of the cave and now he was five feet away . . . four feet away . . . three feet away . . .

Robin's heartbeat (somehow) intensified. Now thrashing against his ribcage, he thought that it would explode within any second now.

Desperately, oh so desperately, Robin tried his damndest to crawl away from his maltreater; whilst at the same time, he tried to do something that he had not done in years, something that he felt ashamed of doing, something that was almost as good as saying 'I surrender'. Something that would show his abuser that Robin was virtually broken . . . he tried to plead for his life.

Despite his efforts to both crawl and plead; his limbs would not respond to the thoughts in his head and his voice box simply refused to allow him to utter anything . . . only to allow the painstaking breaths to escape his mouth.

Two hands grasped Robin by the scruff of his neck and turned him over, violently slamming his back on the unforgiving concrete.

And there he was. The owner of That Cackle, the person who would almost certainly take Robin to his grave . . .

The Face.

Needless to say, The Face was tremendously satisfied with what he saw. The Boy Wonder; his arch-nemesis, tears in his eyes, a river of blood simply gushing from his forehead, his battered body with a multitudinal amount of gashes, bruises, cuts, burns et cetera . . ., his colourful costume virtually torn to shreds . . . despite being a relentless little fighter, the kid had not created a single scratch or wound on The Face. The Face was . . . disappointed?

Yes, disappointed. The Face knew the kid had a lot of potential . . . Hell, at one put during his lifetime; the Boy Wonder had been The Faces' apprentice.

But now, here he lies . . . inches from his demise. Well, that thought at least gave The Face some satisfaction.

Cracking his mouth open slightly, The Face began to speak, his clinical voice filling up the cave "You have failed Robin".

It may have only been four words, but those four words were enough to cause the tears that had been building up in Robin's eyes to fall down his face. The tears travelled down his cheeks, forming two small pathways down his bloodied, dust covered face. One word continued to echo through Robin's head . . .

_Failed._

_Failed._

_Failed._

"You've failed your friends, you've failed your city, you've failed the citizens" The Face continued to provoke the Boy Wonder. Wanting him to react, wanting the young hero to give The Face a reason to strike again. "But most importantly . . ."

The Face came in closer and closer towards Robin's face. Almost coming nose to nose. His last words rang through Robin's mind.

"You've failed yourself"

Mustering the every last piece of energy that was confined inside of him, Robin conjured up a ball of saliva, bile and blood at the back of his throat and hurled it right into the eye of The Face. The Face hardly reacted.

The Face took one hand off of Robin's costume and wiped the throat concoction from his face, wiped it on Robin and resumed his grip on Robin. Beneath The Faces' mask, he smirked. Now he had it. Now Robin had given The Face a reason to react. This was Robin's fault for what was about to happen.

The Face drew Robin up a little more from the ground, inch by inch. He tightened his grip of the superhero before slamming the back of his head on the unforgiving concrete.

The sudden impact of skull meeting concrete sent a sickening thud all throughout the cave, rebounding off the walls, back into the ears of Robin and The Face (whose smirk of pure satisfaction had increased).

The echo continued to ring in Robin's ears as he began to lose consciousness. Second by second, his eyes were closing, and he began to drift away. His breaths were now getting shorter with every passing moment and his vision was fading from blurriness, to darkness.

_You've failed your friends._

Before losing complete consciousness, that noise filled his ears.

_You've failed your city._

The noise that never left Robin when he slept.

_You've failed yourself._

His fears were confirmed. The noise was going to follow him . . . follow him into the beyond.

The cackle stayed with Robin, even when he finally lost all consciousness.

**END OF PROLOGUE . . .**

_And there we are people. One page down, another God knows how many left to come._

_I'd really appreciate the reviews and positive feedback. And please do not send any unnecessary flames. If there are any criticisms to be handed out, they would be more appreciated if they are constructive or if they offer any helpful, useful advice._

_I've written a few chapters already and am in the process of proof-reading them, re-reading, re-writing and changing parts in the chapters that are a bit rubbish._

_I can reveal that this will be a very lengthy piece with all that I have planned or unplanned at this stage._

_Hope you all enjoyed this introduction and I hope that you enjoy all that's left to come._

_Watch this space, there is more left to come._

:D


	2. Chapter 1: And So It Begins

**Chapter One: And so it begins**

**Sunday 23rd September . . .**

**Time: **_3:45:24 a.m._

Jump City Science Laboratories was situated directly on the outskirts of the city itself. The ninety-five thousand square foot structure that stood on a concrete foundation was quite a site to behold, as well as being one of the most attractive buildings that inhabited Jump City.

Its exterior was styled like a cube, only it had been made to curve up and outwards, kind of like the moment when a bird is about to spread its wings and take off. Its metal structure beamed a sliver glow (even in the dark) which reflected the street lights and starlight and moonlight; simply just bouncing off the metal beams. All four sides of the building showed that it had been sectioned into sixteen small squares that each had a large sheet of glass in each sector. Surrounding this structure was a metal construct that encircled the building, like a cage.

Inside, were countless rooms upon rooms where, throughout every single day, the cities most respected, prolific and prominent scientists were conducting research into the never-ceasing wonders of science. Including, the teaching of the academics who all aspired to become the scientists of the future. Everything; physics, biology, chemistry, astronomy, computer sciences, social sciences, botany et cetera . . . were studied is this grand building. The three hundred and fifty plus rooms were all equipped for the hundreds of employees who worked in this fine establishment, as well as the schooling of the twenty-plus thousand who were taught here (who came from all over the globe; U.S.A, The United Kingdom, Spain, Australia, China, Romania, Dubai, France . . . on last count, the students who were taught here made up for at least fifty different countries).

The building had finally been constructed after an arduous seven years. Within that timeline, this project had had more than fifty million dollars pumped into it and had been finished one year before its actual deadline.

And here it stood. If you were to stand on the roof of this construct (which was four stories high and stood at eighty feet tall) and stood at the north end of the roof, you had a clear, beautiful, awe-inspiring view of the Pacific Ocean. Standing on the east, west and south sides of the roof showed three different perspectives of this breathtaking, coastal city.

On this calm, soundless, early morning in Jump City, not a single thing disturbed the night's presence. Not a peep from a passing pigeon, not the incoherent babbling of a drunkard wandering the night, not the rebellious bellows of a disorderly group of teenage or pre-adolescent youths. Nothing. Well . . . all expect the firing of a grappling hook and the clinking sound of it connecting to the metal surrounding of the building.

*Meanwhile*

Derek Stimpson (the night-time security guard of the Jump City Science Laboratories) was drooped is his five dollar swivel chair, his right elbow on the arm and resting the right side of his face on his hand (that was balled up into a fist), currently in his own little dreamland. He had been on duty since ten p.m. and had fallen in a slumber at one a.m. His security guard hat had been shifted forward and covered his eyes; his mouth hung open and emitted a gentle, hissing snore. His long-sleeved, cobalt blue shirt hugged his bulging stomach and was even more crinkled and creased than an overused map of the world and his black and silver, pinstripe tie lay slanting over the left-hand side of Derek's body. His black suit trousers embraced the thickness of his legs (almost too tightly for Derek's liking) and matching black shoes all scuffed and were just a couple of scuffs away from becoming grey. Countless times he had been told by numerous professors of the building the same mantra, over and over and over that he could recite the words without having the professors telling Derek themselves . . .

_Derek, if your appearance looks bad then you make the school look bad. For crying out loud, make an effort and get some new shoes._

The same question always infiltrated Derek's brain whenever those words ever crossed his mind?

_I work from ten p.m. 'til six a.m. and I'm the only person who is in the building at the time. Who the hell is going to see me or give a Flying Dutchman how I look or if my shoes are not black?_

Of course, he would never let himself say these words for fear that he would be fired for any perceived rebellion against 'those of a higher status than a security guard'. One of Derek's friends and fellow security guard, Philip, had his own little mantra. 'The code of the Security Guard' he always called it and Derek could quote as easily as reciting the national anthem . . .

_Just bend over, take it like a bitch and if they ask you to swallow, then you better open your mouth and prepare for their reward they've got for you._

Not exactly the most eloquent of 'codes' that Derek had ever heard (actually, if the truth were to be told, it was the first 'code' he had ever heard in every single working background he had been involved in), but he had to admit, it was nonetheless true.

The side of Derek's bearded face slipped slowly off his face before he jolted awake.

Derek wearily creaked open his eyes. He closed them again before rubbing them vigorously.

He slowly reopened his eyes. He looked at his plastic wristwatch strapped to his left wrist. The watches face told him that the time was fast approaching three-forty-seven a.m. He took his eyes from the watch to the numerous television screens that were staring right back at him. Derek had counted all the mini-screens on his first day of taking up this position and had found out that there were a total of one hundred and twenty six screens. All screens showed different areas of the inside and outside of the building; the corridors, reception, cafeteria, the entrance to the building, car park . . . every single nook and cranny of the entire site was covered.

Derek exhaled an almighty yawn, his mouth stretching as wide as the Grand Canyon, tongue poking out of his mouth. If anyone had got a good look into his mouth, the would notice at least five fillings, one golden molar, the rest stained a rotting yellow colour, all thanks to smoking a multitudinous amount of cigarettes (Camel Turkish & American Blend before turning to Camel Crush) for thirty-five years and drinking a myriad amount of coffee (Nescafe and never anything else) for even longer.

That was a habit that really annoyed his wife, Miriam. Nearly every single day she would show a small hint of annoyance whenever she smelt the hint of smoke in anything that she or Derek possessed or in their furniture or whenever he lit up. He replayed scenes in his mind of Miriam expressing her antipathy for Derek's half-a-pack-a-day habit, or having his last cigarette of the day in their bed, or the stench of cigarette smoke that nestled itself onto Derek's shirts. Plus, it was not a rare occurrence for Miriam to verbalise her concerns for Derek's health with his constant puffing, day in and day out.

_I'm a sixty-one year old, two hundred and seventy seven pound man, _Derek replayed his usual reply in his mind, _I think I'm a little too late into my life to be giving a crap about health or worrying about what I'm going to be dying of in the future._

This would bring a little chuckle out of Derek's mouth whenever these thoughts crossed his mind.

Derek shifted his swivel chair back a few inches, stooped down and reached for the small blue plastic bag underneath the table. He picked the bag off the floor and rested it own his lap. Opening the bag, he stared at the contents in the bag; a thermos flask filled with Nescafe, a packet of Nicorette. . . _Damn smoking laws_, one prawn mayonnaise sandwich and a half-eaten packet of Trebor Extra Strong Mints.

Derek opted for the stainless steel thermos. He took off the steel coated mug, unscrewed the black plastic cap and poured himself a steaming hot mug of coffee. The steam emanating from the rich, brown liquid travelled through the air, reaching his nose and warmed his innards like a crackling fire on a cold December evening. This brought a smile to Derek's face . . . _Sometimes, it IS the simplest things in life that ARE the best._

Derek rested the thermos on the table. He raised the mug to his lips and was about to take a gulp of his drink . . .

-tap tap tap-

Derek almost toppled backwards from his chair and almost spilled the searing hot liquid over himself. His heartbeat had double in speed and quadrupled in sound. The pounding went from his chest all the way up to his ears. His placed the mug on the table alongside the thermos and jolted out of his chair. He turned to face the wooden door behind him.

In a panicky voice, Derek called out "Hello?"

He turned to face the numerous television screens and gazed intensely at a group of eight screens that covered the hallways that were situated outside of his door. Derek examined the televisions over and over and saw . . . nothing.

Derek shut his eyes and rubbed his temples; trying to convince himself that he was delusional from the exhaustion he was feeling.

-tap tap tap-

_There it is again . . ._ again, Derek averted his vision from the television screens, back to the door.

"Who's there?" Derek called out again.

No reply, no sound, no . . . nothing.

After waiting, for roughly half a minute just staring at the door (waiting for another tapping to come), Derek turned from the door, opened up one of the drawers and after a short while of rummaging through the contents, he pulled out a small, three watt LED torch. Clicking the button, the room became illuminated.

With his heart now threatening to journey its way up from his chest to his oesophagus and out of his mouth, Derek slowly but surely, approached the heavy oak door, step by step, inch by inch, careful footstep by careful footstep (treating the floor as though it was a minefield).

He took his left hand from his side rested it on the metal door handle that he had illuminated with the aid of his torch. The icy cold touch of the handle sent an even icier chill up the mans spine.

Carefully, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, just a crack and peered out of the almost wafer thin crack. Gradually, he pushed the door open fully. He shined his torch down the hallway, flashing it indiscriminately.

Derek called out again, even more nervous than he was before "Hello? Who's there?"

Daringly, he kicked the bottom part of the door which caused the door to lock in place so the door remained open; he stepped away from the door and made his way through the hallway that led to the security room door. His feet sinking slightly into the coal black carpet that covered the floor. The beam of the torch reflecting off the metal bars that caused a walkway and made certain that no one end up plummeting to there deaths (the security room was on the eighth floor of the building).

Derek stepped closer and closer to the drop and shined his torch down the hallway; the torch light illuminated a long stretch of black carpet, the multifold of stained glass windows, the metal construction that surrounding the building and the beams that separated the walkways from the ground; hundreds of meters below. He glanced for what felt like years, but in reality, was only a few seconds.

Nothing.

He saw nothing and nobody in the building.

Derek shut his eyes and exhaled wheezily. He was being paranoid. Yes . . . paranoid. The shift was getting to him. Hearing noises when no one was there was a sign for Derek to be convinced that his mind was playing tricks on him. Perhaps he wanted someone to be there simply to make the night shift a little interesting, a little different.

Derek turned on his heel and stalked back towards the security room; he could see the illumination from the multitude of television screens shining from the opposite end of the room (if he squinted hard enough, he could make out his silhouette).

Derek attempted to coax his heart rate into calming down by simply repeating the same five words in his head . . .

_It was only your imagination._

_It was only your imagination._

_It was only your imagination._

_Yeah, must've been my imagination . . ._ Derek concluded that the concoction of lack of sleep and overall delirium caused him to hallucinate the tapping on the door. He collapsed in his chair, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of nose. He took off his hat and rested next to the thermos flask and ran his hand over his chalk white hair and yawned vehemently.

Inhaling deeply, his nose picked up on an intoxicating pungency that went from his nasal passages, travelled all the way down his oesophagus and warmed his stomach. The aroma of the Nescafe brought Derek out of his state of sopor and drew his eyes to the stainless steel cup; it was still emitting a small trail of white steam from the muddy brown liquid.

Exhaling heavily, Derek reached out for the cup; the steel was still cool to the touch. He picked the mug up off the wooden table and downed the contents in three mouthfuls.

He placed the cup back on the table, wiped some of the liquid the escaped from the cup and found its way onto his chin, off with his sleeve, clasped his hands and rested them on his lap and resumed his viewing of the lack of events that were occurring on the screens.

A few moments more had passed before Derek looked at his watch; the face told him that it was six minutes before four.

Derek went to replenish his cup full of coffee, but strangely felt too weak to move from his seat and lean over to the table. He felt . . . tired?

_Well, being awake until nearly four in the morning would naturally make me tired, but surely that coffee would've given me a little boost?_

Derek tried to move again, only to have the same result occurred, he did not have the strength to shift himself from the seat.

Almost out of nowhere, Derek's lungs began to feel compressed; as though someone had opened up his chest and tightened a clamp around both lungs, and his breathe was becoming incredibly strained. A chorus of wheezes echoed throughout the room.

Deep panic had finally settled into Derek's system. If he thought that his heart rate was racing rather rapidly a few minutes ago, now, it had sky-rocketed. He reached for the table to steady himself. He went to grip the side of the table, but his hand slipped and went tumbling to the floor; the roughness of the carpet scratched cruelly against Derek's right cheek.

Derek was now sprawled on the floor. Desperately, he tried to slow his breathing down and bring his heart rate back to normal. The sensation of his lungs being virtually crushed and his breathing patterns being abnormally quick made this task practically impossible.

Mustering the energy that was fast diminishing from his body, he rolled himself on his back; it was tough but he was inevitably successful. Trying to maintain his energy, he willed himself to sit up; and he believed he could have done, except for the weight that was pressed on his chest.

_Wait a minute . . ._ the weight. The heaviness on his chest . . . that was not the heaviness of his lungs (which now felt like they would about to explode); but the weight . . . it was literally being pressed _on_ his chest. The weight was . . . a foot? Derek's eyes travelled from the steel-toed boot, up a leg, to the figure towering over him . . . the intruders face, masked by the darkness.

Derek felt himself slipping further and further into _The Beyond_. He felt Death's icy cold grip, tightening around Derek's soul, ready to clasp it firmly and surely, and ready to pull it into the afterlife, leaving Derek's body here on Earth.

Pure fear had taken over Derek. _No,_ he thought to himself; if he had spoken that word, it would have been pronounced along with the fear he felt, accompanied with a sob, _I can't go now. Please God . . . not now._ _Miriam. _His wife. Her face was firmly cemented in his mind. He wanted to see her once more. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her that he loved her.

The fiend that towered above Derek's almost lifeless body, reached over to the table and picked up the torch that Derek had put down after his earlier search.

Derek gazed up in slight confusion as to what the intruder was doing. His question was quickly answered; in the form of the beam of the torch striking the unknown persons' face.

Death's grip tightened and sent the coldest of all chill throughout Derek's body.

_NO,_ Derek's brain went into overload, and Derek himself went to complete shock, _you're dead. You died years ago . . . you can't be._

Miriam's face had been replaced. Replaced by . . . The Face.

And it was The Face that followed Derek when he eventually reached _The Other Side._

The Face smiled a Cheshire-cat like grin beneath his mask. Greatly satisfied of how effective the cyanide worked in the old bastards system. He felt the security guards' chest cease to rise underneath his steeled-capped shoe. The Face could not describe the pleasure of watching someone squirm to his death beneath his foot. It felt like a . . . _privilege._ Yes, a privilege to watch someone die because of his own doing. Human beings were an incredible species, no doubt about it. They were capable of such incredible feats. They were capable of incredible destruction. Such greatness. Such fallibility. Despite being miraculous creatures, The Face knew (what many others would always forget . . . absentmindedly, of course) that human beings were always vulnerable . . . even at their most secure and comfortable states of mind.

The Face knelt down on one knee, by the guard's deceased entity. He pointed the beam of torchlight to the guard's face. The Face saw that the guard's mouth was agape and his lime green eyes gazed towards the ceiling. The Face took his hand and held it underneath the old mans nose, slightly hovering over his mouth at the same time, checking for any breathing patterns. The old man had indeed passed.

_Now that the old fools been dealt with, _The Face thought to himself, rising to his feet, _time to collect what I've come for._

The Face tuned away from the corpse, strode towards the wooden door, opened the door and walked back into the hallway. He shut the door behind him and snapped the handle off . . . putting the handle in his back pocket.

He knew exactly where he needed to go to collect his . . . _final ingredient_. On his way to the room, his eyes glanced across at the multitude of security cameras that surrounded him. And the funny thing was . . . he did not care. He wanted the cameras to pick up on his movements. He wanted the footage to show his venture. But more importantly, he wanted _them_ to see him. Them. The people who he had pursued what seemed like centuries, no . . . forever, in vanquishing from his life for good. The people he desired to bring quivering to their knees, begging for mercy, begging for their lives . . . the lives he craved to eradicate from this world. Them; the ones that had driven him to his most sadistic tendencies . . . The Teen Titans.

For too long . . . far too long, they have scuppered and interfered in every single plan The Face had conceived in his attempts to overrun Jump City. Every time he was within an eyelash of achieving his goal, the five entities that were forever a thorn in his side . . . prevented him from doing so.

_This time, it _will _be different. This time, I _will _be successful. This time,_ _I _will _eradicate the Teen Titans. And this time, this city is going to crumble . . . right before my very eye._

His plan this time was practically flawless. No faults, no gaping holes, no chance of it failing. The sweetest thing about this plan was that it was so simple, so easy to formulate, yet, it was simply brilliant. For a long time, The Face thought that with quick action, he could bring down his adversaries in one fell swoop. This time however, he had taken his time; his had taken persistence and determination to perfect this plan.

_Sometimes, the simplest of plans, are the most brilliant of plans._

He had used this mantra for a while now, and he did not realise how much truth there was implemented into this.

Since the media had released story upon story about _his_ return, this still did not knock him off course. He knew the unease the citizens of Jump City had about his return and that they did not want to accept the reality. The headlines were made shortly after one of his doppelgangers attacked one of the Titans and the now defunct fairground in central Jump City. In reality, he had hoped that his doppelganger would attack the Titans' leader; knowing that the Titans had returned after ending the reign of the Brotherhood of Evil (who, to his knowledge, were still encased in ice) he believed that they would be at their most vulnerable and fatigued, so if he could (on the off chance), he would send his doppelganger to strike. However, on the night at the fairground (where he had been hiding at for a while) he sighted the changeling and decided to pick him off first and then have the others follow him; one by one. Unfortunately, The Face had not banked on the changeling being as aggressive and powerful as he had been that night, and simply broke the doppelganger into pieces. Nevertheless, The Face would not allow such a minor setback to stop him from destroying the Titans. In a way, he was glad the doppelganger was defeated, because all that meant was that The Face could destroy the Titans personally, and in the most horrific way he could possibly think of. For far too long, The Face manipulated others to carry out his work. On some occasions it worked, not lifting a finger actually worked. But with defeat after defeat after defeat delivered by the Teen Titans, The Face finally came to terms with something . . . _If you want something done; then do it yourself._

It only took less than a minute for The Face to reach the room that contained his prize. With the flick of his wrist, a small lock pick popped out from the cuff of his suit. The Face placed the pick inside the keyhole and after jiggling the pick for about ten seconds, the lock gave a little _click_. He pushed the door open and walked into the small laboratory. Using the torch (the one he had taken from Derek), he shone the beam of light around the room. He surveyed the many tables that had a numerous amount of plastic stools underneath them, the wooden floorboards beneath his feet, the cupboards stocked with a myriad of small glass bottles (all different colours, but mainly; clear glass, green or brown; and with the traditional warning stickers on all bottles as well as the name of the substances), the walls painted white with posters plastered on all four of the walls . . . and a stockroom cupboard. The small boxlike room where his _prize_ was living. The pale green painted door beckoned The Face forward.

Using the same pick that he had used to get into the laboratory, he picked the lock to the store cupboard; taking a smaller amount of time to pick this one. He opened the door and gazed upon his findings. The room was filled with countless bottle upon bottle of liquid; not the stuff inside the main room (the usual stuff like sodium, potassium et cetera), but the 'big stuff' (elements like ytterbium, berkelium, actinium et cetera).

So many bottles, but The Face was only interested in one particular substance. He walked along to the furthest part of the cupboard; the echo of his boots clicking against the wood floorboards and the shutting of the door behind him filled the cupboard.

His _prize_ was not contained in a bottle; instead, it was contained inside a sealed plastic box. He took the box off the first shelf and held it. Two things crossed his minds . . . One: how easy it had been to obtain this piece that was going bring the city crashing down; Two: the notion of the joy and exhilaration he was feeling staring at the item in the box with its naming taped to the top of the box; in bright orange marker pen, the small box read . . . _Uranium._

The Face knelt down on one knee and removed a small black, drawstring backpack he had on his back, opened it and placed the box in his bag and removed something else. He closed the bag and threw it over his shoulder, still gripping the white, oblong shaped item in his hand.

The Face left the stockroom cupboard and entered back into the laboratory. He stalked over to a glass cabinet that contained hundreds of bottles of various liquids. He gave a small tug on the white handle and . . . _Lady luck must really love me this evening_ . . . the door clicked open. He took the oblong object and pressed a button. On the small digital screen, it flashed _14:00_, pressing a separate button; it showed the time that was synched to The Faces' own watch. In just over ten hours, the JCSL would receive a little gift . . . courtesy from The Face. He stuck the oblong shaped object at the back of the cupboard; hidden by the bottles. He shut the cabinet door and proceeded towards the laboratory door; opened it and left the room.

The smirk on his face practically went form ear to ear. He could not believe how smoothly things went. Sure, he was not expecting this endeavour to be challenging by any stretch of the imagination, but he kind of liked the idea of attracting the attention of the security guard and having a little . . . warm-up session before his inevitable encounter. Yes, he did not think for one moment that the security would have been any challenge whatsoever, but the idea of toying with someone for a short while, gave The Face a little thrill.

The Face reached the window in which he entered, pulled out a pocket watch from his right trouser pocket, and looked at the face. The time showed that it was nearly ninety seconds until it was four o'clock. A small grin began to etch itself onto his face.

He hoisted himself onto the glass ledge where he cut out a clean circle of glass to get into the building, unclasped the hook from the metal beam that surrounded the window and threw it up higher, latching it to the roof of the building. He grasped the rope tightly and began to climb his way onto the roof. He ended his ascent after eventually hoisting himself onto the roof and stood on the south side of the building; having an overview of Jump City.

_Beautiful, _the word entered The Faces' mind, _it is a beautiful city. _His thoughts then turned sour, _But soon, no-one, ever again, will ever gaze upon it . . . and I will make sure of that. No one is going to stop me . . . and I will take down anyone who gets in my way . . . anyone!_

The Face retrieved the pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. The watches face read three-fifty-nine and fifty seconds. The seconds slowly crept towards four o'clock. The Face drew his eye off the watch and stared out towards the city. It was getting close now. Agonisingly close.

_Five . . ._

_Four . . . _

_Three . . ._

_Two . . . _

_One . . . _

"And so it begins".

**END OF CHAPTER ONE . . .**

_Just wanna take this quick opportunity to all those who have shown interest in the prologue of this story and to those who took the time to read it._

_I'd also like to give a shout-out to the following people who took have reviewed, put in there favourite stories box, subscribed et cetera . . . (or more than one of these) to this story:_

_MathiasMatt_

_MasterDoc_

_E._

_Novus Ordo Seclorum_

_everydaydude_

_draugeltheshadowhero_

_Eagle wolf05_

_xoxSamIAmxox_

_Peyton Adalyn_

_You guys rock. I'm glad that you've paid early attention to this story and hope that you enjoy the rest of what's left to come._

_Again; read, review (I'd really like to get your views on the chapters; if you're losing interest or if there's anything I can do to spice things up a little or if there are any areas that can be improved upon)._

_Thanks once again . . . _

_:D_


	3. Chapter 2: Sugar Rushes and Guilt Trip

_I do not own the Teen Titans and am in no way affiliated to the Teen Titans franchise in any way at all._

_Plus, all the original characters I create are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to anyone, either living or deceased, are purely coincidental._

_Okay . . . disclaimer: done. Let's crack on . . . _

* * *

**Chapter Two: Sugar Rushes and Guilt Trips**

**Sunday 23****rd**** September . . . **

**Time: **_3:57:03 a.m._

Seventy-three year old Richie Caspar wearily opened his eyes, turned his head that rested on polka-dotted pillow and laid his brown eyes on the metallic alarm clock that had been ringing for the past . . . well, Richie was not sure how long the alarm had been bellowing in his ears for him to wake up. He threw the blanket off his body (the pattern was the same as his pillow covers), reluctantly hoisted himself off the mattress, ruffled his grey locks and made his way over to the wardrobe and took his navy blue robe and wrapped his naked body in it.

With the effects off sleep still apparent in his system, Richie made his way from his bedroom, down a wooden flight of stairs (each step creaking underneath every footstep he took), and entered his kitchen. He strode over to the marble countertop; where an electric kettle was settled, filled it halfway with water and flicked it in the 'on' position; a little red light illuminated from a light bulb on the side. He opened up the cupboard directly above the kettle, picked out his favourite coffee mug (a white based mug that was littered with little red and green polka-dots; Richie (if you had not figured it out yet, Richie had an unexplainable infatuation with any item and trinket that was covered in polka-dots. Ever since he was a child he always had his drink out of a spotted cup or plastic beaker). Richie opened up a different cupboard this time and picked out a glass bottle filled to the top with coffee granules. He twisted the lid off the bottle, picked a teaspoon he left out to dry last night after the washing up, wiped the remaining droplets of water off on his robe, stuck the spoon through the gold paper that covered the top of the glass jar and tore the paper with the aid of the spoon and scooped two huge loads of coffee and dropped them in the cup, a few granules missed the cup and spewed all over the countertop.

He left his kitchen and made his way through the hallway. The walls were covered in (surprise, surprise) dark blue and sky blue polka dotted wallpaper that was starting to peel away, the floorboards (like the staircase floorboards) creaked underneath every footstep he took. He reached the end of the hallway, underneath a wooden archway, painted white, some parts of the archway wood was splitting. From the top of the archway hung numerous beaded strips; all following the colour pattern of; black, silver, blue, red, white, green, lilac and so on, repeating three times of every strip (all fifteen of them).

He parted the centre of the strips and stood in the main attraction of his living quarters, his whole pride and joy . . . his sweet shop.

For the past fifty-seven years, Richie had worked at 'Caspar Confectionary', at the time; Richie's father owned the shop. The shop had been established in Jump City since 1902 and had remained on the same street corner ever since; remaining undamaged in both worlds wars, every brick that was used to build this store more than one hundred years ago remained.

This shop had been a family run business for over one hundred years, being passed down to every 'first-male' of every generation of Caspar. Richie had been an only child. On the night Richie was born, his mother had died due to losing so much blood after giving birth to Richie. Richie's father, Michael Caspar, brought Richie up all on his own and never married again after Delores.

The day Richie turned sixteen; he began working for his father at the store. The routine was the usual; Richie would go to school every weekday, come home and work in the store every evening until closing time. He would work every Saturday and during the school holidays, he would work three weekdays and the Saturday. This would be his working routine until Richie turned eighteen and left school; that was when he would always work every day (with the exception of one or two days a week). This was Richie working routine . . . right up until he was twenty-three and ended up owning the store itself . . . after his father had died unexpectedly of a Congestive Heart Failure (CHF).

Every now and then, during his sleep, Richie's nightmares always crept back to the very moment he saw he father die in front of his eyes . . .

_Richie made his way to the front door of the shop, sliding the deadbolts that were situated at the top and bottom part of the door, then sliding the chain in place at the middle of the door._

"_There we go; shut, safe and secure" Richie said out loud._

_Richie turned on his heel and strode over to the counter (the lid was already up), went behind the counter and closed it. He went through the archway (at the time, there was no beaded curtain) and made his way into the kitchen. He went to the stove, where a stainless stain kettle rested on top of one of the four hobs. Taking the lid off the kettle, he saw there was virtually a thimble full of clear liquid in the kettle. He took the kettle and held in underneath the cold tap of the sink and poured a load of water in the kettle; enough for two cups of coffee._

_Only a couple of hours ago, his father said that he had been feeling unwell and decided to go to bed early and left Richie in charge for the final two hours before closing time. In all honesty, Michael Caspar had been feeling ill for the last week or so; one day he would have a dry, hacking cough, on another day he be wheezing worse than an asthmatic, on another day he would have frequent dizzy spells and would have to go and rest in the kitchen before returning back to work._

_If Richie knew anything about his old man, it was that he was tough old resilient bastard . . . well, except for the past seven plus days. Usually, illnesses or injuries would not keep Michael down; he would just keep ploughing on throughout the day and not let something as small as a cold or more serious, such as a broken arm stop him from working._

_Richie reflected back one time (two years back) his father had been changing the fluorescent light bulbs of the shop; Richie had been in the kitchen tallying up the earning of the day until he [Richie] heard the scraping noise of a step ladder against the concrete floor in the shop, quickly accompanied with the shrieking of his fathers cries and what sounded like a snapping noise._

_Richie bolted out of his chair and rushed in the shop to find the step ladder sprawled on the floor and his father in a crumpled heap, on his left side, his arm looking hideously bent, splintered, dangling from his elbow down (Richie had to force his stomach not to return the contents of his dinner back up his oesophagus and out of his mouth)._

_Once Michael's arm had been put back in place and in a cast and sling, he was told by the hospital staff that he should 'take it easy' and 'allow his arm to heal properly' and 'not to partake in any work that you would consider to be too strenuous'. But was Michael Caspar the kind of person to listen to doctor's advice . . . well, put it bluntly, his response when he left the hospital wards was 'To Hell with the doctor's advice'._

_Less that a day later, Richie caught his father back up the step ladder, resuming the job he was doing before ending up in hospital. Richie remembered being apocalyptically cross with his fathers absolute disregard for, not only his health and well-being, but (again) disregard for his safety. Richie had to bare the brunt of his fathers stubbornness for about five minutes; in that time span Richie had listened to his father go on about not needing supervision, how he was not a liability even with a broken arm, that he was not a decrepit old man that needed to stay in the back all day and not contribute in helping out in the shop, that the doctors can take themselves and their advice and go to Hell with it, et cetera . . . _

_Whenever Richie reflected on this incident, he would usually conclude it with a small chuckle and he would allow a barely audible chuckle to escape from his throat; yet this time was different. Something snapped him midway through his day-dreaming . . . a hollow bang that came from upstairs; it sounded like something (_or someone, _Richie dared to let that thought ponder in his mind for only a fraction of a millisecond) taking a heavy fall._

_Richie did not even notice the sound of the kettle bellowing its train-like whistle, signalling that the kettle had finished boiling; his attention had already been diverted to the dull thud upstairs. Usually, something as simple as a thud would not have attracted his attention, but this time it felt different; Richie just could not put his finger on it._

_Richie left the kitchen (the kettle still whistling like crazy) and stood at the bottom of the wooden staircase, mindlessly staring with abject perplexity at the top of the stairs._

"_Dad?" Richie called._

_There was no reply to Richie's call. He excogitated for a moment, _Perhaps he didn't hear me . . . perhaps I'm just worrying about nothing.

_Richie began his trek up the stairs, one by one until he reached the top. He made his way to his father's bedroom; the door was staring at him right in the face. Richie approached the timber and rapped lightly three times (he always did this before entering his father's dormitory)._

"_Dad . . . are you alright in there?"_

_But again, Michael did not reply to his son's calls._

_For some reason unknown, Richie began to panic slightly. Richie's dad never ignored him, well, never intentionally. Again, Richie knock on the door; six times this time around. And just like the last time, there was no response from the other end. _

_Curiosity, amalgamated with panic that his father had not responded to his (Richie's) calls, Richie pushed the door open . . ._

Richie snapped open his eyes before reaching the section of the horrors of his life, where his father's dead brown stare would not leave Richie's.

Richie shook his head, as though he was shaking the last remaining piece of that fatal event out of his head.

It was a week later after the passing of Michael Caspar that Richie (legally) became the owner of Caspar Confectionary. Richie remembered the day he had received the confirmation that he legally owned the shop that gave a devastating blow to Richie personally. At the reading of his father's will, Michael Caspar had written that his son was to preserve the legacy of Caspar Confectionary and to (when Richie passes on) give his eldest son ownership of the store. That in it of itself would have been no problem whatsoever, except for one minor . . . _glitch._

Richie was gay, and had been since he was nineteen. He dare not reveal this to his father: One, Richie was certain his father would disown him . . . Two, homosexuality (back in the day) was considered an abomination to everyone . . . and Three, Richie was certain that if word had gotten out that he was gay, he would have been murdered by some homophobic bigot zealot. Nowadays, the people had become very acceptant of homosexuals (_Some more than others, _Richie thought) and no longer hid underneath a blanket of lies.

Exhaling, Richie turned to go back to into the kitchen, as the sound of the switch on the kettle flicking off filled his ears, another sound filled his ears.

A slow beeping sound.

_Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . ._

This sound instantly baffled Richie. He turned back around and sighted his security alarm system. The small plastic device that was attached to the wall and a single green light that stayed stationary.

_It can't be the alarm, _Richie thought, _for one thing, the alarm noise would be more of a klaxon sound than a small beep and the green light would've been replaced with a flashing red light._

It was not any of the smoke alarms either . . . _Smoke alarms don't make a simple beeping noise every one second._

Richie went to the end of the cashier, lifted the lid that separated the back of the cashier to the main part of the store and began his gait around the shop, in search for the mysterious beeping noise.

He began at the left side of the store. This part of the store stood shelf upon shelf of chocolate bars. He quickly deduced that the beeping noise was not coming from this side of the room, but was emitting from the opposite side of the room.

He slowly shuffled along to the right hand side of the store. Here stood five hand-crafted wooden stands, where each shelf (five on each stand) stood four jars on each shelf; filled to the brim an assortment of different sweets; rhubarb and custard hard candies, pear drops, chocolate brazil nuts, gummy bears, wine gums, jelly babies, strawberry laces, dolly mixtures, chocolate buttons, bon bons et cetera . . .

The beeping had been going on now for a little more than half a minute.

_Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . ._

Richie examined all the shelves, all the stands . . . but saw nothing out of the ordinary that caught his eye.

_The beeping is definitely coming from this side of the room though, _Richie's mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour, _what the hell is making that wretched noise?_

He checked the stands a second time and still came up short. He scrunched his face in confusion. He loosened the muscles in his neck until his eyes met his feet. The light bulb eventually flickered above his head. With this epiphany, Richie lowered himself onto his knees and peered underneath the stands.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the furthest shelf to the right, where he saw something stuck to the bottom of the stand. Still on his knees, Richie shifted himself over to the stand. He peered at the object for a short while; noticing that an array of red lights were flashing at the bottom of the object. He also noticed that every time the red lights flashed, a beep corresponded with the change of the light. Richie reached out to the object with an open palm. He closed his fingers around the object and ripped it off the bottom of the stand. The object came off the bottom with ease.

Richie pulled the object in hand closer to him. He examined it.

Richie saw that the object was an oblong shape with a few small metal rods protruding from one of the side. He also noticed that there was a timer . . . no, two timers on the item.

One timer read . . . _04:00:00_, whilst the second timer (that was below the first timer) was the timer that was flashing; it read . . . _03:59:52_. No, hang on, now it read . . . _03:59:53 . . . 03:59:54 . . . 03:59:55 . . ._

Richie's eyes almost tripled in size, his heart thrashed violently against his rib cage.

The agonizing hammering of his heart filled Richie's eardrums as well as the beeping of the device he held in his hand.

_03:59:56 . . ._

_03:59:57 . . ._

_03:59:58 . . . _

_03:59:59 . . . _

**Time: **_3:53:24 a.m._

Deep in the dwellings of the Titans Tower, laid sound asleep five people who, the entirety of Jump City, possibly even the whole world, were prolific in fighting crime and protecting citizens on an everyday basis from the evils that threatened to plague their hometown . . . The Teen Titans.

Robin, the fearless leader of the group of five. Over the past year, Robin had reached his full height at six feet four inches and improved on his muscle tone quite significantly. He had still maintained his spiky hairstyle and his 'traffic-light' costume. Needless to say, he had been the brunt of many taunts (from BeastBoy and Cyborg) for not changing his costume as he was starting to look (in BeastBoy's words) ridiculous and was hard to take him serious when he looked like a five-year-old in a Halloween costume and (in Cyborg's words) something you would expect him to wear during for a gay-pride parade. Despite constant pleas from both parties, he kept his attire the same. And for BeastBoy and Cyborg . . . well, their own 'special little training session' did not make BeastBoy leave his bed for two days and took Cyborg three times the normal time to recharge his batteries. BeastBoy and Cyborg learned an important lesson that day. The thought still made Robin snicker whenever it crossed his mind. Maybe that was the reason he was smiling in his sleep. Or perhaps it was because he was cradling the one person that mattered more to him than anyone else on this entire planet.

Starfire snuggled in even closer to her beau, pulling herself in closer to his chest. The gentle beating of his heart, preserved her in her sleep, almost hypnotic. The Tamaranian warrior's appearance had changed very little over the last twelve months. The only noticeable detail that had changed on the alien beauty was her hair (which had grown down to the back of her knees. This had prompted the other Titans to mention something about this; however, they abstained from doing such a thing . . . _Best not to interrupt her happiness if that's what she truly wants, _Robin had said on more than one occasion. . . . _Pussy-whipped, _both BeastBoy and Cyborg thought). Other than that, nothing about her had changed. Her attire had remained the same, her usually quirky, sunny and genial personality had remained the same, her curiosity and cute naivety was still ever existent and her amicable nature and attitude was still unequivocal. Ever since Robin had finally admitted how he truly felt about Starfire, her happiness seemed to never cease. Whenever her elation was at the point of over-flowing (if it ever did stop over-flowing) she would constantly express her happiness through; 'The making of the dessert of absolute blessedness' (which no-one enjoyed, excluding Starfire of course, enjoyed consuming. The other four did not recover from the dessert's disagreement with their digestive systems for at least a week; the villains had a riot that week) or delivering her usual bone-crushing hugs to her friends that would literally do so (luckily, due to his lack of ribs, Cyborg was left unscathed. For poor BeastBoy, he was temporarily incapacitated for three days; thanks to Starfire's exuberance. Starfire did not stop apologising for three days; Cyborg did not stop fucking around with BeastBoy for three days. Every evening, Cyborg would keep BeastBoy company . . . him and his plates and plates of meaty foods, stacked a meter high on each plate).

Cyborg lay in his dormitory, on top of his metal bed as he continued to recharge. His battery level on his gauge reading at seventy-eight percent; it would be at least another three-and-a-half to four hours before he would be fully charged. Out of all the Titans, the half human, half machine had definitely changed the least out of his comrades. His trademark silver, grey and blue interior stayed the same, his refulgent red eye was the same as ever; the only thing that did change was that now, he had completely lost all hints of his teenage years and was now looking like a man. This did have its little kicks. Namely, irritating the shit out of BeastBoy whenever he felt like it. The first few days . . . correction: weeks, that Cyborg had made that transition from his teenage years to adulthood, he had made sure that BeastBoy was aware of it whenever the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter. Needless to say: One, Cyborg did not realise how grand it was pissing off BeastBoy continuously, day in day out (_I know that it pisses you off green bean; why d'ya think I do it?,_ would be Cyborg's reply over and over again), and Two it was probably the best few weeks of his life; just because he was no longer a teenager, did not mean that he had to start behaving like an adult instantaneously. Despite being the only non-teenager in the house, Cyborg stayed with the team. There had been talks about whether or not Cyborg would be replaced by another Titan simply due to age reasons; what was the reason in being a _Teen Titan,_ when you were no longer a teen, right? . . . _But we are a family,_ Starfire's words rang through his mind, picturing her face, emerald eyes full of tears and falling down her face faster than a monsoon, _and we should not be doing the splitting of up, correct?_

Raven clutched her blanket close to her chest; slow shallow breathes falling out of her mouth. The empathetic teens mysterious shroud remained the same ever since the Titans had returned from their showdown in Tokyo, despite this, there were certain aspects of her person that were different. Her pin-straight, violet hair had gone from shoulder length, halfway down to her spine (nowhere near as long as Starfire's, but still as pin-straight as ever). Her teenage facial features were diminishing by the day, being replaced with those of a young woman. If people were not perturbed by Raven's 'creepiness', they would gladly admit that she was a strikingly beautiful girl. Her hero attire had stayed the same since she started out as a Titan. Her navy blue cape hung over on a chair that was neatly tucked underneath a table at the far end of the room; and as always, she slept in one of her many coal black leotards. Regardless of her ever-present mysterious aura, she had become more . . . mellow. Her powers were still controlled via her emotions, but ever since returning from Tokyo (and within the past few months) she had allowed herself to show off her emotions a lot more than she used to. She remembered the day (before their mission in Tokyo) when she (_Quite by accident,_ as she always told herself; though she knew this was false) allowed a small, yet audible chortle after something ridiculous BeastBoy said. The four astonished faces of her friends shone in her mind when this happened, she quickly retorted with the excuse that her emotions were a little unstable that morning; that Happy was a little 'restless' . . . _'Bullshit Raven'_ she recalled Happy bellowing this in her mind.

Raven's eyes very slowly opened. Unsure why she had just woken up when she was in slumber . . . _'And you still know to this day that's bullshit Raven'_, Happy's chirpy vocals chimed through Raven's mind.

_So that's why I woke up?_ Raven spoke to her emotion through her mind, rather annoyed, _Because of you?_

_Its not like I'm telling you something you don't already know Rae-Rae,_ Happy cheekily replied, ending with a small chorus of giggles.

Raven sneered as the pink-clad emotion ended her gleeful jeer.

_Damn you Happy. More importantly, damn you BeastBoy. Because of you I'm in a fool mood. Because of you're petulancy; Happy is having a field day in my mind. Because of you . . ._

Raven stopped herself in mid-flow. She felt instant guilt swelling up in her stomach. It was not BeastBoy's fault she was feeling foul, it was her fault for allowing herself to get to that point; and she knew it. She was thinking irrationally and being unfair towards BeastBoy. The guilt kept swelling; it showed on Raven's face. The same guilt she had begun to feel a few months back.

During her time in Tokyo (once their showdown with Brushogun had concluded) Raven's actions, mannerisms, even her attitude towards BeastBoy were (by her own admission) gratuitous. She had lost count the amount of times she had struck at BeastBoy; whether it was via a verbal bashing or a physical beating; all of them completely unwarranted and undeserved. At the time she had no clue why she would do such things and during the nights, when she was asleep, she would ponder to herself why she was doing these atrocities. She could not put her finger on it. BeastBoy never did anything wrong to her; he never offended her, said or did anything unpleasant or horrible to her, never once bothered her . . . but she could not help herself in striking the green teen.

After their little break in Tokyo, the Titans returned to Jump City. Since their return, it became noticeable to the other Titans (Robin, Starfire and Cyborg) that BeastBoy had become increasingly more despondent towards Raven; he had even ceased in communicating with her. At the start, Raven had thought nothing of this, believing that he was being sore because of what happened in Tokyo (and she could understand), but when BeastBoy had not approached Raven even once after a month from their return, she felt herself becoming . . . lonely. This alone shocked Raven. Robin, Starfire and Cyborg still conversed with Raven, but without BeastBoy communicating with Raven, she did indeed fell incredibly lonely. _What makes him so damn special? _Raven asked herself constantly, _What is it about that irritable little brat that . . .,_ there it was; the twinge in her stomach, the discomfort that invading her entity, the sensation that made her realise what she had done and what she was currently doing . . . the guilt. The results of her mistreating the changeling made her feel like shit. Oh yes, they did speak, but it was only passing comment during missions and even then, Raven was still miserable. There was no point in asking BeastBoy what the problem was, when she fully knew what was wrong. And she would not bring her friends into her problems; she felt that it would be unfair on them, and she believed wholeheartedly that they too knew what the problem was. Many times she had tried to apologise to BeastBoy, to get him on his own and apologise profusely for her disgraceful ways; but no matter how hard she tried, he kept up his evasion of her. Even when she did finally find the opportunity to apologise, BeastBoy turned her away . . . those eight words rang in her mind louder that the chiming chorus of Big Ben . . .

_Leave me alone Raven. Just leave me alone . . ._

Raven remembered that evening. She remembered standing dumbstruck to BeastBoy's outburst, remembered his voice, those words echoing throughout the halls and in her ears, remembered her heart shattering into a thousand pieces, remembered sprinting to her room (knocking down Robin on her way there), remembered slamming the door shut, remembered her powers going into overload and her possessions soared manically everyway and remembered . . . throwing herself face first into her pillow and crying. Crying. Crying of what BeastBoy said. _Why?, _she kept asking herself, _I've had worse things said to me in the past and I've never acted like this. Why him? What makes him so damn different to anyone else? Why BeastBoy? Why? Why? Why?_

After that day, she went into recluse from BeastBoy. She had given up. Given up trying to apologise, given up trying to explain herself, given up on . . . well, just given up. Every time she and BeastBoy were in the same room, they never made eye contact or spoke to one another, every time they were on a mission, the same thing . . . they simply did not acknowledge each others presence or existence. What they had for a friendship, had vanished over the course of a few months.

Needless to say, the despondency between the empath and changeling took its toll on Robin, Starfire and Cyborg. The three of them started to feel increasingly more uncomfortable being around the two; together or separately. Robin told the Tamaranian and half man half machine what had happened between the two (he had 'unintentionally' eavesdropped on the two). Starfire had insisted that Robin, Cyborg and herself should speak to the two and try to bring a resolution between Raven and BeastBoy. Cyborg instantaneously refused, saying that the problem was between Raven and BeastBoy and that they would need to sort it out amongst themselves. Robin (who would easily cave into Starfire's suggestions and pleas) also refused, claiming that Cyborg was right and that their attitudes towards each other had not, at any point during their return to Jump City, affected their efficiency in combat. The disappointment radiated of Starfire immediately; she did not want to accept these reasons and was inclined to argue back, but was too despondent to do so.

Raven was depressed. Friendship was extremely important for her; it was the one thing currently in her life that made her feel accepted. She had a great bond with Robin, Starfire and Cyborg, no doubt about it, but without BeastBoy, she felt empty, incomplete, abandoned . . . dead.

Raven was not sure how long she had been awake for (it was no more than a minute). Happy had finally settled herself down and was no longer being the woodpecker at Raven's brain, but the knot of guilt tightened harder and harder in her stomach. She had stopped denying it long ago . . . she missed BeastBoy. Yes, he was there in person, she could always feel his presence despite never making eye contact with him; but she missed him like crazy. She missed conversing with him; even if it did include his ridiculously unfunny 'humour' (and she would use this term very lightly), she missed his smiling face with the protruding fang (which she found kind of . . . cute?), she missed his eyes that glistened whenever she looked into them (_How did he always do that?_), she missed . . . him.

She missed him so badly, but more importantly, she knew why she was missing him; it took losing BeastBoy to make her realise why she missed him. She was (needless to say) stunned by this revelation. It was a second stirring in her stomach that had begun long since they left for Tokyo (long before the feeling of guilt ever entered her system), a stirring that she just could not understand, just did not know what it was. She realised what it was a week after BeastBoy told her to leave him alone (the words, even to this day, still rung in the back of her mind, echoed constantly in her ears). Despite realising it, she struggled to accept it. There was no way on this planet that the changeling could ever feel the way for her as she did for him; not after what has happened . . . she ruined every chance, every opportunity, everything. She exhaled softly. She could feel tears fighting in the back of her eyes, urging her to release them, to let them flow out of her; they had wanted to be released for a while now. She closed her eyes and fought against them.

_Crying over a boy, _Raven thought to herself, _how pitiful is that?_

But she wanted to; God she wanted to cry. More importantly, she wanted _her_ BeastBoy back. Yes, she could no longer deny it_;_ she wanted him back, more than anything else in the world. She wanted to go up to him, throw her arms around his neck, squeeze the life out of him, cry incessantly into his the chest and apologise profusely for how disgusting she was to him all those months ago and beg, which she was willing to do, beg endlessly for his forgiveness.

She lost the fight; one tear managed to escape from her right eye, fall down her cheek, onto the carpet beneath her bare feet.

Raven's tear filled purple-blue orbs glided over to her window. Slowly but surely, she made her way over to the window and just stared amongst the beauty of the coastal city.

Her eyes were mesmerized by the shimmering lights that were emitting from the city; the water in her eyes adding effect to the view. The streetlights were glimmering their orange glow, the yellow floodlights from the dockyards sparkled magnificently, several vehicles of different shapes and sizes went along the roads, a couple of civilians stumbling home; _Inebriates, _Raven thought, a tiny smile etched on her face, a green bird flying past the window, gliding up to the top of the tower . . .

_Wait, _Raven suddenly jerked herself into realisation, _a green bird? . . . _

"BeastBoy?"

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**

**

* * *

**

_I just want to take this quick opportunity to say thanks to those who have read this story so far and to those who have given their kind words to the previous chapters. To know that I've got this support so early on encourages me to write on and on and on . . . _

_Thanks to all those who have added this story to their favourites, subbed et cetera . . . _

_I've already received over 200 hits so far (which are not incredible numbers by my own admission), but for every single hit I receive, gives me a warm, satisfying feeling inside. Just knowing that there are people out there from all over the world that are reading my work is just incredible and it makes me want to keep writing for you guys and gals._

_Oh, and did I mention . . . _

_Thank You!_

_:D_


	4. Chapter 3: A Trip Down Memory Lane

_I'm back . . . with another chapter. Did you miss me?_

_:D_

_Anyways, you know the drill. I don't Teen Titans. I never have and I never will do. As for the original characters, they are all fictional and if they do resemble anyone either alive or deceased, then that was done completely by accident._

**Chapter Three- A Trip Down Memory Lane**

_Time: 3:55:02 a.m._

Glowing orange streetlights, intertwined with the beams of yellow light emanating from the floodlights that came from the Jump City dockyards, hints of light from houses on the coastal city that is Jump City; all being blanketed by the infinite amount of stars that hung in the sky like diamonds, shimmered in BeastBoy's forest green eyes.

If any of the Titans had changed the most since their return from Tokyo, it was the changeling. And it showed. His costume remained the same Doom Patrol attire when he became a Teen Titan (the same black, dark purple costume, accompanied with silver-grey gloves and shoes) but his physical appearance had definitely changed. He was no longer a scrawny, weedy little cabbage with legs like he was a year back. After his return to Tokyo, he started to spend less time on pouring hour after hour down the drain on the GameStation with Cyborg, engrossing himself in his substantial amount of comic books or whatever mind-rotting garbage was on the television or trying to spend a portion of his time conversing with . . . _her; _instead, he would spend almost every hour of his free time in the towers gymnasium. After seven months of endless cardio and muscles regimes, he had built himself up a decent figure. Almost as good as (_If not, better than . . ._ BeastBoy would always grin at the idea of thinking it) Robin's physique. Facially, he still maintained the pointy eyes and protruding fang, but now, he no longer looked like a goofy looking _freak . . . _a word that would still revolt BeastBoy whenever he entertained the single syllable . . . now, he was at least a semi-attractive _freak_ . . . _Better than goofy I guess,_ BeastBoy smirked a little as this thought would often cross his mind. He allowed his green locks to grow down the back of his neck, brushing the collar of his costume and let the top half of his forehead be hidden by a fringe. His stature had increased significantly; he was just a couple of inches off of six foot, but still had a few more inches left in him. But best of all, (at least to BeastBoy it was the best of all) he voice had finally broken. If truth were to be told, he hated the way he used to sound. He sometimes felt that was a reason why none of his associates had ever taken him seriously . . . _The goofy, green freak with a goofy freakish voice, _was what would usually plague the changelings mind whenever he allowed it to.

That had all changed now. Now, for the first time in a long time, he had started to feel in his comfort zone and that he could leave everything that made him (what BeastBoy thought) a laughing stock behind. He would not usually allow himself to think this but the more he did, the more he would analyse this conception.

The Teen Titans . . .

Robin: leader of the group and indeed, the most recognisable of all the Titans, not only to his own colleagues but to the entire world. A former protégé of The Dark Knight and one of the most skilled hand-to-hand combatants anyone had ever witnessed. What he lacked in unearthly powers, he made up for with his fists and arsenal of weaponry.

Starfire: Tamaranian princess, a fearless entity and one of the strongest superheroes anyone could have ever imagined. Equipped with her trademark star bolts and eyebeams . . . whoever said that looks were deceiving, must have been referring to Starfire.

Raven (BeastBoy would usually cringe whenever _her_ name infiltrated his mind, like an unwanted virus): daughter of Trigon, empathetic being and the most feared of all the Titans, combined. If she was on your side, you could thank your lucky stars . . . piss her off badly, then you would be expected to end up floating in an unknown macrocosm and not be discovered . . . ever.

Cyborg: the half man half terminator. On the outside, you would agree that he was a behemoth in his own right, but on the inside, he was a warm, gentle, caring being. Equipped with his sonic cannon, a mastermind in anything that was technological . . . he was virtually a supercomputer on legs.

And . . .

BeastBoy: the least intelligent superhero amongst the Fearless Five, the cockamamie changeling who no one could take seriously, no one had the time of day for and completely forgettable. Did he receive any commendations for leading the Titans against the Brotherhood of Evil and relinquishing all the Titans who came a cropper to them? No . . . _The Forgettable Hero._

_Well, it's true, _BeastBoy thought despondently, _I don't remember a single person congratulating me or give my a single piece of praise after delivered some hope into the team, saved a chunk of the honorary Titans and contributed so much to defeating the Brotherhood of Evil._

This hurt BeastBoy badly. He never let it show, but inside, the dejection still gnawed away at him.

Yes, on the outside, BeastBoy had always tried his damndest to maintain a positive attitude and it would not matter what it was or who it was that tried to pour cold water onto his spirit, he would still walk about, head held high, a grin on his face and his cheerful essence would still be ever present. But on his own, he could not help prevent the sorrow, loneliness and depression that lingered in his heart.

If anything, his carefree attitude hit a brick wall after he came back from Tokyo with his teammates. He tried to be more serious and forced his bright nature to sit in the shadows. Needless to say . . .

One: It was not an easy thing to do and did not enjoy the solitude he now maintained. And . . .

Two: His colleagues noticed his erratic change of behaviour.

_He could recall one instance where Cyborg had try to coax him out of his 'serious-shell' and bring out the joyous, carefree BeastBoy that had gone into hiding. Cyborg had tried and suggested many things: a twelve-hour marathon of either computer games, movies, television shows, with the accompaniment of a barrage of junk foods . . . declined, an infamous debacle of eating meat products over the 'delicacies' of tofu . . . refused, coerce the green teen in pulling _'The mother of all pranks on Robin',_ Cyborg's offer . . . rejected._

_Cyborg had ultimately given up; muttering something about BeastBoy being a boring, self-pitying . . . BeastBoy never caught the last mutters of Cyborg's exclamation, but it was enough for the changeling to react to his cybernetic comrade._

_BeastBoy had turned to Cyborg with an irritated sneer etched on his face. Demanding the half man half machine to repeat himself, Cyborg turned his nose up at the changeling and refused to repeat the last section of his sentence. Cyborg could tell through BeastBoy's voice patterns that he had been perturbed by his little snide at his green buddy. Eventually when BeastBoy came face to face with Cyborg, the green teens facial features looked . . . _different, _was the first word that sprung to Cyborg's mind. Behind those green eyes, Cyborg saw a concoction of animalistic fury, spite, anger and rage; all characteristics that Cyborg thought did not exist in the green bean._

_From nowhere, BeastBoy exploded in front of Cyborg's face (Cyborg was very taken aback by the changeling exploding right in front of him) demanding – yes, demanding – that the almost cybernetic being repeat what he said, and to say it to his face rather than mutter it behind his back._

_Instinctively, Cyborg immediately became defensive towards the green teen, fearing that if he said the wrong thing at this moment of time, then he ran the risk of BeastBoy tearing his head off. BeastBoy was obviously a ticking time bomb here and he had to diffuse this situation carefully. He thought to start things off; he would tell the cabbage head to calm the hell down and . . ._

_BeastBoy's bellows tore through the air once again. This time, he went on a tirade about keeping his artificial face out of his business, that he did not have a _fucking clue _of how he felt and that the _worthless garbage bag of scrap metal can go and fuck a toaster _for all he cared. With that, BeastBoy stormed out of the living, out of the tower and perched himself on a rock, overlooking the Pacific._

_Cyborg was . . . stunned. If anyone had come into the living room and seen the half cybernetic being, they would have been convinced that Cyborg was on standby. Okay, BeastBoy had snapped at Cyborg in the past, but never . . . _never, _had the changeling ever reacted to Cyborg that manner before. If Cyborg had been honest, bearing the brunt of BeastBoy's 'explosion' had been . . . frightening. Also, BeastBoy never make any nasty remarks about Cyborg's 'condition' either. This among everything else upset Cyborg._

_BeastBoy had lost track of the time but knew that he had been sat on 'his' rock for well over an hour now – the same one he perched himself on when Terra left the Titans and decided to join forces with Slade and the time when he had troubles with The Beast – considering that when he had come out to sit on that rock of his, it was at least mid-afternoon and now over half the sun was disappearing over the horizon. Over the course of those hours, he had sat there, head in his hands, the anger boiling up inside him slowly, very slowly, venting out of his system before calming down completely and begun to reflect over what happened. It was only within the space of a few seconds before he begun to feel like shit. His friend . . . his _best _friend, had just tried to cheer him up and not only had he declined rather dismissively, but after Cyborg had made his remark, the green teen had not only bitten off the mechanical mans head but he had said some – well, to put no finer point on it – rather nasty things to him. _What kind of best friend does _that_?

_Rising from his rock, he unclasped his communicator, flipped it open and checked the time. He was quite surprised that he had been sat of his rock, gazing out over the vastness that was the Pacific Ocean, excogitating his actions earlier this afternoon, for almost four hours. Surprised because:_

_One: he had never such a large portion of time contemplating his action, words or mannerisms and how they had affected that person directly. And . . ._

_Two: this was the first time he had actually done such a thing (well, he had done a similar thing when The Beast had been quelled due to a concoction Cyborg had given to him and he had reflected on the way he had behaved towards his teammates, especially _her_, but he was under the influence of another agent, so in his mind, that did not count)._

_Walking back to the entrance door, BeastBoy's stomach gladly reminded him that he had missed out on dinner. He could not recall anyone paging him on his communicator or coming down to the water's edge to apprise BeastBoy of either the time of dinner. This thought however did not concern him at all as only one thing was on his mind . . . find Cyborg and apologise for his attitude and his unnecessary aggression. He figured that the mechanical man would be located in the garage working on 'his baby' (Yes, even to this day, Cyborg would still use the pet name that he had coined for the T-Car)._

_The hood of the T-Car was suspended above the cybernetic beings head as he nosed through the innards beneath the hood. Recently, Cyborg had been driving through central Jump City to collect some accessories that he needed for the T-Ship when the T-Car, out of nowhere, started billowing with smoke. This evening, Cyborg decided to check what was wrong with the car. However, he was finding in difficult to concentrate on the job at hand after BeastBoy exploded in his face. Cyborg was extremely rattled by BeastBoy's capricious behaviour. He could easily remember the time BeastBoy lashed out at Cyborg after losing at a computer game and he (BeastBoy) took it really badly and ended up leaving four clean scratch indentations in his armour. But that was because of The Beast, this time however, Cyborg felt like The Beast had no part in BeastBoy's words whatsoever. Cyborg knew that BeastBoy had issues with Raven and that was definitely the root cause of the green beans outburst, but the way he reacted was just too uncharacteristic. He was not angry with the green teen, rather, he was worried._

_Cyborg's attention went back to his 'baby'._

"_Damn it man", Cyborg exclaimed irritably, "what the hell is wrong with you girl? I've examined you for ages and I cant to the life of me figure out what . . ."_

"_Dude, a plug that goes into the radiator has been knocked out."_

_Cyborg was startled by the voice behind him, which he instantaneously knew belonged to the changeling._

"_How the hell . . . "_

"_All you need to do is put it back in and fill the thing up with water."_

_Cyborg stared wide-eyed at the changeling, before averting his gaze onto the radiator. _How the hell did I miss that?_ He clearly saw that a plug was disconnected from the cars radiator. _

"_How the hell did you know what the problem was BB?" Cyborg had turned his attention back to the green skinned teen._

"_I read about it" answered BeastBoy. _

_Cyborg eyes went even wider at the changelings answer._

"_What . . . you surprised that I can read dude?" BeastBoy responded to the metal man's incredulous expression._

"_Green bean, the only material you ever read is comics or the T.V. guide. Since when did you start reading books?" Cyborg asked, with a smile beginning to etch itself onto his face._

_The changeling had to smile at this, "When did I ever say that I got that from a book?"_

_This answer evoked small chuckles from both parties. They eventually died down before BeastBoy opened his mouth to speak again, "Look dude, I'm sor . . ."_

"_Don't BB"_

_The changeling froze during mid-speech; "Huh?" was his response._

"_Don't worry about it man. Let's just forget that it happened"_

"_But dude, I said some really nasty shit to you. You didn't deserve that, no matter what you said"_

_Cyborg exhaled softly before responding "I know cabbage head" he rested his hand on the changelings shoulder, "but I've had worst things said to me in the past"._

_Almost out of nowhere, the half man half machine quickly wrapped his arms around his friend's neck before pulling him into a noogie. Cyborg rubbed cold, rough, metal knuckles over the changelings green scalp which caused Cyborg to chuckle almost maniacally and BeastBoy to yell in discomfort. Through this simple act of brotherhood (the two were not related in anyway, but they were as good as brothers) BeastBoy knew that he had been forgiven._

_The memory of his altercation between him and Cyborg had fizzled away and into another altercation that took place between him and Starfire. This specific occasion was when Starfire had attempted to cheer up BeastBoy with countless amounts of concoctions that she had created. All in order to _'Bring you the happiness and the endless joyousness in boundless amounts that will bring you out of your state of severe unhappiness',_ Starfire's voice rang in his eyes, louder than a blaring foghorn. BeastBoy also remembered snapping, extraordinarily harshly at the Tamaranian about how he was not unhappy, how he was fine, how she should keep her nose out of his business and went on a tirade about how revolting her culinary arts were; ending the verbal lashing by sweeping the alien foods of the table, onto the floor before storming out of the common room._

_Starfire never had anyone speak to her like that in her life. Tears were cascading down her face faster than she had ever known them to. Never had BeastBoy ever spoken to her like that . . . ever. The kind, gentle, bundle-of-joy she knew was gone, and had been replaced by this . . . _Monster!_ The word nauseated her. _

_BeastBoy had immediately felt regret for what he did. He knew very well that he acted like the biggest bastard in the world, he knew that Starfire only wanted to try and make him happy, he knew that the sweetest, kindest, most compassionate girl he had ever met was in floods of tears because of what he had said and done and that she did not deserve any of that. He just thanked his lucky stars that his teammates were out for the evening; otherwise he would be receiving the biggest ass kicking of his life from Robin and Cyborg._

_BeastBoy immediately rushed back into the common room and saw Starfire collapsed on the floor, in floods of tears. The guilt that started in his stomach had now infested his entire being; Starfire was not the only one who had tears coming down her face. He rushed over to the alien princess, collapsed on the floor in front of her, gently embraced her and began apologising profusely for what he said and done to her._

_Starfire heard BeastBoy's words whisper gently in her ears. She pulled away from him and intended to give him what-for and make him join her spoiled Tamaranian delicacies. However, something stopped her. She stared into his dark green irises and noticed something in them. Well, she noticed two things:_

_One: the unfeigned emotion that was pouring from his eyes. And . . ._

_Two: that BeastBoy was no monster whatsoever._

_She was reviled that she had even allowed herself to think of BeastBoy in that light. She hurriedly recommenced the hug between herself and the changeling and began apologising herself. She begun apologising for intruding on BeastBoy's time of emotional distress, apologised for not giving BeastBoy the space that he wanted to have and would understand if he was to not accept any of her apologies._

_Needless to say, BeastBoy was stunned with Starfire's surprising act of kindness. So surprised that he cried even harder than he originally did. He was especially shocked that Starfire was apologising of all things when it was he who had been in the wrong. He would have totally understood if Starfire had picked him up by the scruff of his neck and thrown him through the common room wall. She really was the sweetest individual he ever had the great fortune to ever meet. Her kindness was second to none. He knew that he did not deserve Starfire's warmth and generosity and felt bad for allowing himself to be the one who was being comforted; Starfire was always give, give, give and never asked for anything in return. He whispered into Starfire's ear, through choked emotion, that she should not be the one apologising, that he was a such a '__chlorbag __varbernelk' (even to this day, BeastBoy still had no clue what this meant, but it brought a small chuckle out from Starfire and that made BeastBoy smile, knowing that he was succeeding in making Starfire feel slightly better) and would not feel any animosity towards her if she wanted to throw him into the living rooms' window and leave him a bloody mess on the island below._

_Starfire instantly shuddered at BeastBoy's . . . offer, it you want to put it so bluntly. She instantaneously vocalised her repugnance at the changeling's words and said that BeastBoy was a 'chlorbag__varbernelk' for even suggesting such things. Now, it was BeastBoy's turn to chuckle._

_The two of them remained collapsed on the floor for a few minutes, simply cradling each other, first chuckling for a short while accompanied with the last remnants of their tears before becoming silent._

_After making up, they cleared up the mess (despite BeastBoy's protests that he should do all the cleaning up as he made the mess, but Starfire refused to let him do it alone. God, she really is an amazing person, BeastBoy cheerfully thought), Starfire promised that she would not tell any of the other Titans of what had happened (BeastBoy gave a small sigh of relief to this revelation) and the pair spent the rest of the evening chowing down on snack foods, watching a movie on their DVD player (Bambi . . . obviously chosen by Starfire . . . BeastBoy allowed her to choose whatever she wanted to watch)._

_After their little . . . trauma, as Starfire had so eloquently put it, she promised BeastBoy that she would give BeastBoy some space but if he ever wanted to do the conversing, and then he could always turn to her._

_BeastBoy responded to Starfire's proposal with a hug and thanked her for being so wonderful. BeastBoy realised something that evening . . . _I'm incredibly lucky to have a friend like you Starfire,_ he meant to say this in his head but ended up saying it out loud. Starfire (who was beaming brighter than BeastBoy had ever witnessed) reciprocated BeastBoy's kind words with a kiss on his check and a gentle hug._

_BeastBoy's memory faded away from the altercation that took place with Starfire, to the confrontation that took place between him and Robin. It had taken place on the night that he (BeastBoy) had told Raven, _There goes another shot up the spine, _to leave him alone after she had tried to confront him . . . again._

_After he bellowed at her, he stormed to his room, angrier than he could ever remember. He opened his door with such a force that it shook the walls around him; the slamming of his door was needless to say, over-the-top, but he _was_ furious. He stomped over to his bunk bed (which he had no intention whatsoever in getting rid of) and collapsed on the bottom bunk, which was completely junk free. In fact, his entire room was rid of any unwanted litter after his return from Japan after about a month. He just lay on the bed staring up at the underside of the top bunks mattress; the frustration billowing up in him like an inferno. _

Doesn't she understand that I don't wanna talk to her, _the thoughts pondered_ _in his mind,_ she's not made it a secret that she hates me being around her, she hates me trying to talk to her, she hates me trying to get her to open up to me, she hates . . . me . . .

_Those final few words stung BeastBoy badly. He knew that Raven hardly liked him, but never had he allowed the word hate be used so flippantly like that._

_His pondering had been interrupted by a small beeping noise. A beeping that he had been accustomed to for the last three years . . . the emission of the Titans communicator._

_BeastBoy detached the little yellow device from his belt and flipped open the communicator and was welcomed to the black masked, spiky haired head of his leader._

_Robins' words, to say the least, were curt, sharp and straight to the point, "BeastBoy, come to my office . . . immediately!"_

_Before BeastBoy had the opportunity to ask Robin for the reason why he wanted him in the office, Robin disconnected the signal abruptly. BeastBoy was definitely baffled by his leaders demand, half-heartedly, he hauled himself off the bottom bunk, out of his room and made his journey to Robin's office. On his way there, he had to make his way past Ravens room, he swore that he heard Raven whimpering in her room but immediately dismissed the thought. A year ago, he would have been banging at her door, asking her what the matter was, before being inevitably turned away . . . _but that was then and this is now.

_One short trek later, BeastBoy had reached Robins' office and was face to face with the traffic-light-on-legs himself. BeastBoy saw that Robin had a disconcerting demeanour about his person, which only layered onto his already present confusion and bafflement. His uncertainty was soon enough diminished once Robin began his tirade._

_Robin had begun by notifying BeastBoy that he had been nigh-on run down by Raven in the hallway after he (BeastBoy) had yelled at her, that he tried to ask her what the problem was, only to be ignored. Robin stood; facing the changeling waiting for a response. After not receiving one for about ten seconds, Robin prompted BeastBoy to explain himself._

_BeastBoy told Robin that _she_ tried to corner him in the hallway, that he did not want to listen to whatever Raven had to say and that he ended their confrontation by telling her to leave him alone and not bother trying to talk to him because he had no intention of wanting to communicate with _her_ (Robin was somewhat surprised with BeastBoy referring to the purple-haired sorceress, not by her name, but by 'she' and 'her' and that BeastBoy had heavily emphasised those two words)._

_BeastBoy expected Robin to flip out and go on a tirade about unity within the team, that whatever his problem was with Raven that he better let it go, go into her room and apologise for his behaviour and that if he was to refuse to do any of the following, then he would be punished for his disobedience and everything would just be another big pile of mess on top of the existing pile. Instead, BeastBoy was pleasantly surprised with Robins calm, collected and composed demeanour that replaced his disconcertion._

_Robin was set on applying his trademark 'arsehole-head' and put BeastBoy in his place so that BeastBoy would end up grovelling to Raven, right in front of Robins masked eyes. But right at that moment, a thought hit him . . . _

Raven!_ The name struck Robins mind like lighting, _If BeastBoy is going to understand the magnitude of this issue, then he needs to understand it from the one he's hurt.

_Soon enough BeastBoy had been asked by Robin to follow him out of his office. This instinctively baffled BeastBoy . . ._

Huh,_ BeastBoy began think to himself as he followed Robin out of the office and through one of the towers numerous hallways, _I didn't expect Robin to react like that. This must be one of those days were Robin isn't on his period.

_BeastBoy mused in this thought and gave a small chuckle. He was inevitably pulled out of his stupor by The Boy Wonder (who wore an expression of confusion towards BeastBoy's chuckle; he did not bother asking BeastBoy as to why he laughed) and the changeling realised immediately where Robin had brought him to . . . his temperament slipped back into rage. His eyes scanned over the one word that was engraved on the door . . . _

Raven.

_BeastBoy turned to Robin and asked him why he was standing in front of _her_ door._

_Robin was starting to become incredibly irritated with BeastBoy's blatant disrespectful nature towards the empath. Robin was fully aware of BeastBoy's disdain for Raven for the past few months. Since their return from Tokyo, he noticed a dramatic change in BeastBoy's behaviour, not only to his duty as a protector of Jump City, but to his personality and also to his attitude towards Raven. He had become a helluva lot more serious about his superhero duties, he had taken extra measures to ensure that his physical fitness was at its peak and had started taking additional attention in ever mission the team embarked on no matter how big or how small the magnitude of the mission was. Robin definitely had to commend BeastBoy for his change in attitude, but the adverse effect was that BeastBoy's usual chirpy, smiley, hyperactive personality had taken a nose dive . . . Robin was not sure whether or not he preferred the old BeastBoy to the new one._

_Another side of BeastBoy that had emerged and replaced the old BeastBoy was the way that behaved towards Raven. Yes, Robin would openly admit that Ravens behaviour towards BeastBoy was . . . out of character to say the least. He knew that whenever Raven lashed out at BeastBoy, she would do so if BeastBoy had done something that did not settle well with her; but it seemed that during their venture in Tokyo, she would just strike him indiscriminately. He remembered (in particular) BeastBoy innocently suggesting that the Titans should go to Mexico for their next holiday destination, to which Raven responded by hitting the changeling. There were other instances before and after their confrontation with Brushogun that caused Robin to wonder what exactly Raven was playing at. A harmless comment by BeastBoy, leading to a physical lashing by the empath . . . No; Robin did not care what Raven said, BeastBoy did not deserve any of that._

_Robin had dismissed the first couple of weeks after their return from Tokyo where BeastBoy had had little to no contact with Raven, believing that he (BeastBoy) would give Raven some distance and time for her to let go of whatever vendetta she seemed to hold against the green-skinned teen. But when those weeks turned into months, that was when Robin had become seriously concerned; not only for the two teammates in question, but for the entire cohesion between the whole team. Robin had brought this up to Starfire and Cyborg, who too were more than aware of the empath and changelings friction, and had agreed to not get involved and let them find a solution, strongly believing that they could not stay mad at each other forever and that they would both completely forget why they were conflicting with one another in the first place. But after a total of six months, no progress had been made, and after tonight's confrontation between the two heroes, Robin had had enough of this ongoing war. He had decided . . ._

It's time that this crap comes to an end. And I can only do this in the only way that I know . . .

_Robin told BeastBoy to zip his lip and just listen to what was happening inside the purple-haired girl's room._

_BeastBoy was initially perplexed by his leaders order. His initial instinct was to question the order he had been given, but thought better of it; he did not want to give Robin the ammunition to get on BeastBoy's case even more than he already was. Reluctantly, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Because of his animalistic DNA, all of his senses were incredibly heightened; his ears could pick up upon the quietest of whispers. His ear pricked up on the noises that were coming from the room. Expecting to hear nothing but the mantra that the empath would always repeat whenever she was in her state of meditation, his ears were greeted with the sound of . . . _

Crying?

_Yes, it was crying. Needless to say, BeastBoy was stunned that the blue-clad sorceress was crying. The last time Raven cried was the same day she revealed that the world was going to end. He completely understood her sorrow back then - but then again, so would anyone if they were going to destroy the world - but he could not understand for the life of him, why she was crying in her room and why Robin had brought him outside her door in the first place._

_Robin's voice interjected. Over Raven's sobs, BeastBoy's ears rung with Robin's words. Robin told the changeling that before asking him to come to his office and explain what had happened between him and Raven; he went to see Raven first. He reached her room and knocked, not receiving a reply he called her name, but received the same non-response. The detective in him took full hold of his entity and took the risk in opening her door. He only had it open a couple of inches before he saw that Raven was bawling her eyes out on her bed and a multitude of items and trinkets were soaring all throughout her room._

_BeastBoy listened to Robin's story and quickly deduced that it was he who had reduced Raven into a bawling wreck on her bed . . . _Who else could it have been?

_BeastBoy expected at lot of negative waves to flow throughout his body. He had done his best to blank Raven out of his life as best as he could. After the way she had treated him throughout the duration of their time in Tokyo – even before they had left in the first place – and he could not find it in himself to forgive Raven for the way she treated him for all that time. He expected to behave dismissively towards Robin and him revealing how Raven was feeling after hers and BeastBoy's altercation a few moments ago. He had his 'counter arguments' already loaded and was ready to fire. So he was strangely shocked to discover that he felt . . . bad._

_He was listening intently to the purple-haired spawn of Trigon, the girl whose actions, words and all-round degrading treatment towards him had caused him to cease all communication with the empath, the young woman who he had avoided for month after month after month as she made it abundantly clear that she did not want to be in any way shape or form to be associated with the changeling . . . _

_And all he felt was . . . empty._

_He was totally convinced that Raven had detested the green teen's existence and had showed that through every hurtful or spiteful thing that she had either said or done to him; that was way he had given up wanting to make the effort in communicating with her. But hearing her wailing in her room, listening to Robin's story, realising that perhaps he had been wrong about Raven not giving a shit about BeastBoy. _

_Robin's voice once again interrupted BeastBoy's trail of thought. BeastBoy was not paying optimum attention to what The Boy Wonder was yammering on about, but he did catch the whole point of his speech – about how Raven does care about BeastBoy, about how badly BeastBoy had hurt Raven with what he said, about how much he (BeastBoy) really does matter to Raven, about how he (Robin) hopes that whatever feud the two held that they could _hopefully _forgive one another and move on, about how . . . – BeastBoy did not catch the rest of Robin's speech but he comprehended the whole point of his dialogue. _

_BeastBoy did not know how long he had been standing outside of Raven's room but by the time he snapped out of his attention that had been transfixed by Raven's sobs, he noticed that Robin was no longer in sight. The first thing that came to BeastBoy's mind was to walk into Raven's room and try and calm down the empath and talk to her. However, taking into account that Raven's room probably still had random flying objects still circulating at a violent pace and that the possibility that BeastBoy would suffer a concussion due to this fact was as good as certain, he abstained from doing so. So, he eventually decided to retreat to his room. Needless to say, he probably was not the only Titan that night that got a crap nights sleep._

An icy chill ran through BeastBoy's entity; this brought him out of his flashback and brought him back into the here and now. He reached for his communicator, opened it up and checked the time.

_3:56:24 a.m.,_ his mind registered the time. Initially surprised since he thought he had been 'flashbacking' for ages, he closed his communicator, returned it back to its home (his pocket) and resumed his gaze out onto the coastal city.

His last flashback still lingered in his mind. During that night, he had spent a large proportion of it wide awake (only getting less than three hours sleep that night), simply staring at his ceiling, and reflected on what he heard in Ravens room. Numerous times he felt compelled to go to her room and attempt to make conversation with the empath, but; _What the hell do you say to someone who you had abstained for talking to for the last seven months? How the hell are you supposed to start a conversation with someone that who have deliberately not spoken to for seven months? Would the purple-haired sorceress even want to talk to me?_ all three of these questions had crossed BeastBoy's mind way more than once over the time period he was awake. Apart from the obvious and not so obvious – Raven being asleep during the time BeastBoy was contemplating what to do, or Raven still sobbing her heart out, or Raven just (for some reason unknown to BeastBoy) awake and waiting for the changelings appearance so that she go _all demonic_ and therefore could turn him inside out and take absolute pleasure in doing so – BeastBoy chose to wait until morning (well, technically it was already morning but he knew what he meant) and then he would attempt to communicate with the person he had refused to acknowledge for seven months.

However, once he had awoken, he changed his mind and decided not to speak to the empath. The reason behind his decision . . . he was ashamed.

Raven was someone who had constantly abused him both verbally and physically, had very rarely retuned his kindness, no matter how many times he persisted; she would always give him the backhand (metaphorically and literally) and never want any of his time spent on her. So he gave her space, gave her distance, gave her the solitude and seclusion that she always wanted and craved from BeastBoy. And all he said was eight words to her that night . . . and _he_ was the one that felt guilt? _How? Why? That doesn't make one goddamn lick of sense?_

The shame clung onto BeastBoy like a virus for the next week, still asking himself; _How? Why? _whenever he had thinking time (he would never allow either Robin or Cyborg to know that he was thinking, without the impending barrage of snide remarks that would go along the lines of . . . _BeastBoy . . . thinking . . . are you feeling well dude?_, and all that jazz). No matter how many times he asked himself these two questions, he could not come up with the answer . . .

_How? Why?_

_How? Why?_

_How? Why?_

. . . until earlier this afternoon.

He had replayed the scenarion in his head countless times this evening. He remembered simply walking into the Titans living room, minding his own business, simply wanting to go to the kitchen and retrieve a glass of soy milk when his forest green orbs had to land on the purple-haired sorceress. Meditating as she usually did; this time, she was angled slightly so that she was not facing towards the window, but just so slightly that the sinking sun lit up her face. The reasons why he felt guilt in the first place slightly evaporated along with the reasons he had begun ignoring her in the first place and were replaced by another sensation. A sensation that he had suppressed for a long time but now he dug its way out of the surface the moment he laid eyes on the beautiful young woman who he . . .

_WAIT!, _BeastBoy immediately came to a halt the second _that _word entered his mind, _Did I really just think that? Did I really think that Raven was . . . _

_WAIT! _he interrupted his first trail of thought, _I've just said her name in my head and I didn't feel anger, discomfort or malice towards her. I just felt . . ._

His stomach started churning, his palms started gaining perspiration, his heart rate began increasing . . . he bolted out of the living room as fast as he could, neglecting his drink.

He rushed back to his room and did not leave all afternoon and all evening, until tonight, coming out onto the roof. He was not hungry as he had gorged himself on an assortment of junk foods that he had stockpiled in his wardrobe.

And now here he was, the churning in stomach was still present. He was, needless to say, still dumbstruck by this revelation that he had discovered. The girl that he had deliberately abstained from communicating with, hell, even acknowledging her for a total of seven months was all he could think about at this present time. He could not believe it, one moment when his guard had been let down, and all the feelings that he had once had for the sorceress and come charging back into his system like a pack of raging bulls.

But still, the two questions hung in his mind, this time for different reasons . . . _How the hell has this happened? Why do all of the sudden I feel like I'm the person in the wrong?_

He knew exactly the reasons why he had began his 'Ignore Raven' campaign to begin with, but know, he started to feel that . . .

_Maybe, I'm the one who is at fault. What if I did deserve all the abuse? Maybe I had just kept pushing and pushing and pushing until she finally snapped? Gosh, perhaps if I . . ._

The sound of a doors lock clicking behind him ended his pondering. He did not have to turn he head to look at who it was behind him. The intoxication of lavender, jasmine and vanilla infiltrated BeastBoy's nasal passages and sent his stomach into another wild frenzy, his palms to gush out in perspiration, his heart beat to thrash almost wildly against his rib cage.

"BeastBoy?"

**End Of Chapter Three**

_And there is another chapter._

_To summarize, the entirety of this chapter is meant to show how BeastBoy's and Raven's relationship has deteriorated over time and how (through the events that will occur in this story) they strive to glue the shattered pieces of their friendship back together and realise what they really mean to each other._

_So, if at any point you thought that those two were a little OOC; the reasons are stated clearly in this chapter._

_Plus – I don't know about you guys – but I always thought that Raven's behaviour towards BeastBoy in the Teen Titans movie was . . . well, kind of horrible. I've read on plenty of WebPages and YouTube comments (YouTube being the website where I saw the movie) that it is meant to show a form of 'tough-love' from Raven to BeastBoy, but I just don't buy it, personally. What do you guys think?_

_Anyways, I hope you people liked this chapter. If not, leave your comments about pieces you did not like or areas of my writing 'skills' (I use the word very lightly) that you think need brushing up on and I'll try and incorporate some of your criticisms (the constructive ones of course, but then again, who really cares? :D) into the next chapter._

_If you can't criticize, then just voice your opinion on this chapter or the whole story so far. Seriously, every positive comment and every piece of credit you give, inspires me to keep writing and to keep delivering the goods._

_Lastly, I can't thank all those who have read the story, commented, subbed, and added to their favourites, enough than I already have done. It really does mean a lot to me that you guys read my story as well as everything else._

_Until next time . . . _

_This is GreenRock . . . Signing out._

_:D_


	5. Chapter 4: Answers and Smoke Clouds

**Chapter Four – Streetlights and Smoke Clouds**

Sunday 23rd September

_Time: 3:55:58 a.m._

Raven had long left the comfort of her bedroom and was continuing her journey to the roof of the tower. She wrapped her navy blue cloak around her person in her own attempt to keep herself warm; despite the temperature inside the tower being eighteen degrees Celsius (roughly the equivalent of sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit) she still felt the slight early morning chill travel through her entity. She walked bare foot through the hallways of the tower, the softness of the carpet sunk slightly with every footstep she took.

After sighting BeastBoy in the form of a swallow (the long pointed wings and the short bill gave him away, as well as Raven recognising the type of bird he was from a book she had read about aviation species), curiosity had her in its vice-like grip and decided to see what he was up to. She had walked over to the chair that her cloak was draped over, threw it around her, clasped it together and left her sanctuary to investigate.

It was only when she reached the door that separated the inside of the tower to the roof that Raven's mind decided to throw a thousand and one questions at her.

Here she was. She was about to go outside where the changeling was stationed. BeastBoy; the same person who for the past week or so, she had given up in attempting to engage in conversation with the teenager, to attempt to snap him out of his funk, to apologize for her inexcusable behaviour and mannerisms towards him. The same person who for a total of seven months, he had ceased to communicate with her outside of battle, almost virtually freezing her out of his life - _The Ice Queen, frozen out . . . how ironic_.

As she closed the gap between herself and the door to the roof, the centimetres being eaten up with every footstep, those thousand and one questions bore heavy on her mind . . .

. . . _What the hell am I going to say to him? Am I even going to say _anything_ to him? Will he want to talk to me? Will he even acknowledge me? Why am I doing this? Why am I panicking? How am I going to start? Will _I_ even start? How is he going to react? Why don't I just turn around now? How am I going to approach him? . . ._

. . . If Raven's mind was a computer, she would have overloaded, smoke would be billowing out of her ears and then her head would explode in a fiery wreck.

She just wanted to know. To know whether or not she and BeastBoy . . . _her_ BeastBoy – _her_ BeastBoy who would continuously try to engage in conversation with her against her will, _her_ BeastBoy who would incessantly make idiotic jokes to try and provoke a laugh out of her, _her_ BeastBoy who was always there, always wanting to be with her at any opportunity that presented itself, always wanted to be in her company, so that she was never alone – had any shred of hope patching up this ridiculousness and salvage whatever of their friendship had survived this destruction; _if_ any fragment of their friendship was still alive. If there was, then she would promise to the green teen to never hurt him again, to never chastise him for as long as she lived, to be a friend to him, a proper friend, a caring friend, a friend that would always be there for him whenever he needed someone; she wanted to be _the _someone, the _only_ one. If there was no chance in rescuing their relationship, then . . . _I can only pray to God that that wont happen._

Raven had reached the door. She froze. She had to calm down. Her heartbeat was very violent at this moment in time and she could not go out there, to converse with the changeling, if she was a gibbering mess. She had to be brave – _I could definitely need her for a time like this_, Raven smirked a little at this thought. The nervousness she was feeling paled into insignificance compared to the other set of emotions she was feeling. Strangely enough, it was not the guilt in her stomach (although that knot had loosened a little, it was still present), it was not the nervousness whose vice-like grip was tightening, it was not the sheer fear at the prospect of the changeling exploding in her face again, it was . . . _BeastBoy. He's . . . sad?_

Yes, it was sadness. BeastBoy was sad. Raven was quite taken back by these sensations she was feeling from her teammate on the opposite end of the door.

She had sensed a change in the green teen's emotional patterns a week ago, but those emotions were all murky, confused, unreadable. Usually, BeastBoy's emotions were nothing but happy, happy, happy and Raven had preferred them like that. They were consistent, clear, precise; just one emotion going on at one time. The last week was just an unmitigated jumbled mess. This was the first time within the last eight or so days that Raven had felt just one emotion from BeastBoy, and it was the emotion she had least expected. Sadness, tinged with . . . _guilt? Yes, that's guilt. _

_BeastBoy feeling guilty. Guilty about what?_ Confusion set into Raven, _For what reason could BeastBoy be feeling guilty about? _This thought ran through her mind. God, she wished right now that she could read BeastBoy's mind. Just why was he feeling guilt among other things?

_Well, I'm not going to find out just standing here, I _have_ to speak to him._

Exhaling deeply, bracing herself for whatever the hell was going to happen in the next few moments, she reached for the door handle, opened the door and immediately saw the changeling, seated at the edge of the tower.

"BeastBoy?"

Despite not hearing that monotonous voice for roughly a week, the dialogue was still familiar to the changeling's ears. The voice sent a chill down his spine, though, not because of a sense of loathing, but because he wanted to her the empath's voice – _Wait, did I just revel at the sound of Raven talking?_

He wanted to reply. Raven could feel that the changeling allowed a piece of happiness to take over him, even though it was only for a couple of seconds, he was happy. Why? Because Raven was here? The sorceress allowed herself to delight in this small moment of hope but quickly dismissed it; not to get her hopes up too much. She could feel him wanting to reply to her voice, but she also felt a hint of uncertainty creeping back in, along with a tinge of guilt.

_Well, at least he didn't leave immediately, or snap in my face. So . . . this must be a good start. Mustn't it?_ Raven, feeling a lot more settled than a few moments ago, felt that extra bit brave. Probably making the bravest move she ever made . . . _or the most stupid thing I've ever done,_ she approached the green boy, slowly, each footstep felt like that at any moment, she was about to stand on a landmine.

Despite taking careful steps towards him, BeastBoy still heard every one of those steps Raven made. _Why is my heart starting to race? _He had not noticed this up until now. The pungency of Raven's scent was getting stronger and stronger with every passing second. Feelings that he had deep buried for the empath all those months ago were starting to resurface. _This doesn't make any sense. What in God's name is happening to me?_

Raven could feel nerves emanating off of BeastBoy with every inch of the gap she closed between the two of them. She was completely and utterly perplexed to say the least. _Just why the hell is he nervous? Does he honestly think I'm going to throw him of the tower or something?_ Raven dismissed this ridiculous logic, but she could not blame BeastBoy for thinking this – if he was thinking this – considering all the nasty shit she had done to him in the past, she would not put it past him if this was what he was thinking. Eventually, she was towering over the changeling.

BeastBoy could see his purple haired teammate out of the corner of his green orbs. He did not shift his head to look at the purple-haired girl directly in the eyes, he felt too ashamed. He had shortly reflected on his treatment of Raven over the last seven months, and how disrespectful and disgraceful his manner had been towards her.

_I must've done something to have upset her so badly all those months ago that she would have reacted the way she did. I cant remember exactly what I did but I know I'm in the wrong, _guilt had now infected BeastBoy's system and knew that he was going to dread these next few moments of unpredictability.

Raven lowered herself down onto the tarmac and sat on the edge of the towers besides the green teen, keeping at least half a meter between herself and the changeling.

_So far so good, _Raven warmed a little to this thought, _he hasn't left and hasn't protested yet . . . but he hasn't even acknowledged that I'm even here. Maybe he still doesn't want to communicate. Well, I cant blame him. I wouldn't want to talk to me if I had been treated the way that I treated him. _

_What the hell am I supposed to say to her? _The green skinned teen was wracking his brains, trying to think of what the hell he should say to Raven – the thought of her name this time caused his system to heat up – _She called my name and I haven't said anything to her. She probably thinks that I'm a really rude bastard as this point in time . . . cant say I blame her._

_What the hell am I going to say next? Wait . . . shouldn't BeastBoy say something now? It's his turn to speak, surely. Maybe he's waiting for me to speak. No . . . I started this, so I have to be the one to finish this. Okay Raven, now's the time to make everything right . . ._

_Why am I being so stubborn? Raven called my name; she's obviously waiting for me to respond. But how do I answer? C'mon BeastBoy. This is your chance to end this. This is the time for you to make everything right, and you know exactly what to do . . . _

"BeastBoy, I . . . "

"Raven, I'm sorry"

"I just wanted . . . huh?" Raven gaped at the changeling besides her. _Did he just apologise?_ No, she was just hearing things. Yes, that was it. It was all . . .

"I'm sorry for shouting at you last week. I was wrong for doing that"

Raven did not think her mouth could get any wider, but it did. BeastBoy continued.

"I'm especially sorry for being an immature little idiot to you for the last seven months. My behaviour was inexcusable and you didn't deserve me being rude to you"

The Raven a year ago probably would have made a cheap shot at BeastBoy for using the word 'inexcusable', but at this moment in time, she was – well, stunned would be putting it lightly, she was – speechless. Her mind had completely stopped functioning. Trying to register what BeastBoy was actually saying, Raven stayed schtum and glared at the changeling in astonishment, almost not believing a single word he was saying.

"But if anything, I'm sorry for everything I've ever said or done to either irritate or anger you; no matter how big or small it might've been" BeastBoy stared out into the vast coastal city as he allowed the words to spill from his mouth, tinged with a sense of sorrow, "I figured that the reason that you said and did all those things to me was because I said or did something to you that pissed you off so badly that I deserved every little insult, every little snide comment, every single punch, kick, slap, every . . . well . . . everything you dished out".

If Raven had not felt like shit five minutes ago, she definitely felt like shit _now. _She could not believe what she was hearing. Was BeastBoy seriously blaming himself for the way Raven treated him seven months ago? Was he really saying that he was at fault? Were these really tears falling down Raven's cheeks?

"You're not at fault Raven. I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to realise that this is all my fault. You don't deserve any of this shit. You deserve better. You deserve so many good things in life Raven. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and you don't deserve any of my shit" BeastBoy exhaled deeply before ending his sentence, ending it with eyes shut, "I'll understand completely if you can never forgive me"

BeastBoy had no notion whatsoever as to where he was going to go during his 'speech'. He guessed that he would just let whatever he had built up inside him over the last week out of him and just hope that Raven would not push him over the edge of the tower. He surprised himself with how . . . _well _everything went. He did not care whether or not Raven could forgive him – well, he had secretly hoped that Raven would accept his apology and that they could resume their friendship which (before all this mess started) was so damn good – he had said his piece, he said everything that was balled up inside him, he had said what was needed to be said . . . and for that, he was satisfied.

_Well, _BeastBoy's thoughts begun, _I think I should see how that went down. _BeastBoy opened his forest green orbs and for the first time since this afternoon, he rested them the blue cloaked empath.

Raven's tears were now in full flow. She gripped the side of the tower and refused to stop the salty water from escaping from her orbs. This was all the guilt that was boiling inside her free flowing out of her system. _Why? Why does he think for one moment that he's to blame? _Raven was always credited for her intelligence, but this time, she could not come up with an explanation as to why BeastBoy blamed himself.

BeastBoy smiled half-heartedly. He was kind of surprised that Raven had reacted the way she did to his apology. He assumed that she was finally relieved that he had, at last, apologised for his actions and she had decided to manifest her relief via crying. Taking what he considered to be an extremely risky move – believing that Raven was going to either: appreciate this gesture (which he thought was the most unlikely thing that would happen) or make him plummet to the ground below – he shifted himself closer and closer towards the purpled headed mystery until his arm gently brushed against hers and rested his gloved hand on the empath's shoulder.

The changeling's hand had barely grazed Raven's shoulder, when (out of nowhere) Raven spun, clutched her teammate's attire with both hands and bawled into his chest. If she was honest with herself, she was disgusted with herself for letting BeastBoy believe wholeheartedly that all that the result of his behaviour was all his fault and she was not to blame whatsoever.

BeastBoy was taken aback by Raven's sudden clinginess. Were these the actions of someone accepting an apology taking into account what the apology was about? Well, if they were, they were (in BeastBoy's honest opinion) a little dramatic to say the least. Surely an 'I accept your apology' would have sufficed. No, there was something very unusual about Raven's sudden outburst; BeastBoy just could not put his finger on it. His ears suddenly picked up on another sound, besides Raven's sobs, accompanied by her lung spasms. She was trying to speak, but was having some difficulty because of she was heaving so much.

Raven had done at least a minute of crying into BeastBoy's chest – the pair of them unaware that the T-Ship that was parked on top of the tower had been encased in dark energy, suspended above the tarmac, before eventually crashing back down to earth with an almighty crash, somehow remaining in one piece – before she tried to respond to his apology. She ran a hand underneath both her cheeks, wiping away a few loose tear droplets and tried her best to quell her lung spasms before speaking, but was too eager to get the words that stuck to the back of her throat out of her mouth.

Once she had composed herself, BeastBoy could make out what Raven was trying to say.

"Wh . . . what . . . what makes . . . you th-th-think th-that you're t-t-to b-blame?" Raven finally managed to say, a few more sniffles along with one or two more lung spasms managed to escape from her mouth.

By now, the changeling had decided to move his arms and carefully place them around the purple-haired sorceress. He was kind of expecting Raven to react negatively to BeastBoy's gesture and hurl him away, instead, she clung tighter to BeastBoy by wrapping her arms around his mid-section. Parting his lips, BeastBoy responded "C'mon Rae, it's me. Am I not always the reason that you're always irritated? Isn't everything I do worth a smack now and again? Besides, I obviously did something to deserve all that.

"And considering the severity of the beating you gave me, I must've done something really terrible to upset you. And I'm apologising, not only for what I did, but for the way I've acted towards you over the last seven months and for shouting at you that way I did a week or so back". BeastBoy was not sure what he had said wrong, but whatever it was, Raven's volume of crying had increased.

_This is wrong, _Raven told herself. Usually she would protest against anyone who nicknamed her 'Rae', but at this point in time, she really couldn't have given a shit. Her emotions were running riot in her head. She knew full well that she had to keep herself under control; she could not allow herself to let her powers wreak havoc around her. Unbeknown to her and BeastBoy, the windows of the tower were shivering due to the empath's emotional outburst. Any more from the empath, the windows would shatter and both the grey-skinned girl and green teen would have some explaining to do when the others found out. _How the hell could I let BeastBoy think for one second that he is in the wrong?_ Again, the empath gathered herself together and spoke out (through a numerous series of snuffles and exhalations) . . .

"BeastBoy, this is not you're fault. You're innocent here. I'm the one who needs to apologize for all that's happened between the pair of us."

BeastBoy gazed down at the empathetic beauty, dark green eyes connecting with a forest of purple hair. His nostrils noticed that her aroma of lavender, jasmine and vanilla was slowly dissipating and being replaced by the scent of salty sea water. This new scent was getting stronger and stronger with every passing second. He was not aware to his change of scent until now, but he was aware of one thing . . . he was not particularly fond of this pungency. Where was the earlier concoction? He liked _that _scent; he liked it a lot. BeastBoy could only describe that scent as throat nectar; sweet, rich and intoxicating. He wanted this scent to return.

"Raven?" the green teen broke this moments silence between them.

"Yes?" Raven answered, much more clearly this time; the presence of the lung spasms was long gone and snuffles were decreasing by the second.

BeastBoy was not entirely certain whether he was about to destroy this moment between the pair of them; Lord knows that he had a habit of shattering any sort of tender moment. However, the trepidation was almost too much to bear and the curiosity had got the best of him, "If you're to blame for what's happened . . . then why did you do all those things to begin with?"

Raven felt like she had just swallowed a two ton weight once the changeling's sentence had ceased. But she could not lie to herself . . . she had been expecting this question to pop up at any time. She only discovered why she had acted the way she did a few short days ago, but she was not going to allow BeastBoy to know . . . unless she had every intention of giving the boy an arrhythmia. Exhaling deeply – not knowing where the next few seconds were going to go – she began her answer, "I . . . honestly don't know BeastBoy".

Green eyes not leaving the purple hair in front of him, the changeling's expression became scrunched in confusion. _You don't know? _These three words kept echoing in his mind, over and over and over, as though they were on a continuous loop. If he was in the mood, he would make a quick quip about Raven not knowing the answer to – what BeastBoy thought of as – a relatively simple question.

Raven pressed on, "I wasn't in a good place at the time BeastBoy. I wasn't thinking correctly and I took it out on you." Well, that part was true at least . . . it was not the whole truth, but it was part of the reason why Raven had mistreated the green teen.

Mentally, Raven could not stop beating herself up over what she thought of as an incredibly poor response to a really basic question. _What the hell was I thinking?_ More tears began to fill her eyes._ He sure as hell isn't going to accept that as a plausible response. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . Is his hand on my cheek?_

A small gasp escaped from Ravens lips as she was snapped out of her thoughts. Slowly, the gloved hand brought Raven's gaze away from BeastBoy's purple-black costume, up into his stare.

The connection of forest green eyes and deep purple orbs sent electricity surging through each others bodies; both of them obviously oblivious to the others persons sudden jolt of emotion.

They held each other's gaze. Completely spellbound by each others eyes.

Staring into the amethyst eyes of the purple haired sorceress, BeastBoy felt the re-emergence of feelings that he had for the empath that he had once long buried completely take hold of him. These feelings, along with the mad thrashing of his heart caused a bead of perspiration to fall down the side of his face. Forest green eyes studied the facial features of the grey skinned girl who clung to his waist. Catching Raven's features in the sun this afternoon was one thing, but getting a full view of them, only inches of air separating the two of them, was a whole different kettle of fish altogether.

_Dude. What's wrong with me? One moment I'm ignoring Raven, the next moment, she here in my arms, I'm talking to her, staring at her . . . and I'm speechless?_ The light bulb went in his head. _Damn, why haven't I acknowledged her response? She must be looking at me right now with her eyes . . . with those mesmerizing eyes, thinking that I'm a buffoon. Hang on . . . did I just really think that?_

"Raven . . ." unintentionally, BeastBoy had begun talking. He had no idea what the hell he was going to say, but since he started, he was going to finish, "What's happened has happened. I don't care about that anymore. I just want us to be friends again . . . "

Hope began to fill Raven, like too much water filling up a cup before overflowing over the brim.

" . . . I forgive you"

It was those three words that made the sorceress feel the most elation than she had ever felt in her life.

BeastBoy's lip slowly curled up into a smile. He inhaled slowly, yet deeply, _Ahhhh, my new favourite smell . . . lavender, jasmine and vanilla._

As she gazed into the depths of BeastBoy's sparkling green orbs, she could feel her heart rushing like crazy. She had not noticed how . . . _handsome? . . . _the green skinned boy had become. Yes, she would admit – not to anyone else of course – that BeastBoy had definitely lost a lot of traces of his youth over the past seven months. Even through her tear-filled eyes, the green skinned boy that held her in his arms was very good looking indeed. Her mind, in conjunction with her heart, was racing rapidly . . .

_This doesn't make any sense. How can I be reacting like this to . . . BeastBoy of all people? _Usually, logic never failed her, but this time . . . _No, I can't be feeling like this. I've only just made up with him. _The alien thoughts and feelings that Raven had only just come to terms with had infected her entire being. Before she allowed herself to become too lost in these thoughts, she slapped her sensible head back on her shoulders. A small piece of sorrow took over from the elation. _I can't just let myself go on just a whim. I need time to pull myself together. Come on Raven, come on girl . . . He sure does feel warm though. _She did not notice it, but a small smile had etched itself on Raven's face at the end of this thought . . . _And he's built quite a bit of muscle too . . ._

*** * * BOOOOOM * * ***

The green and purple headed superheroes spun their heads away from each other and out into the vastness of the coastal city. They pair of them felt a small tremor in the ground before being followed by the towering ascent of thick, billowing, black smoke.

_**Time: **__4:00:07 a.m._

The sounds of sirens roaring all throughout the tower brought the three sleeping Titans out of their slumber.

In Robin's room, the Boy Wonder's ice blue eyes shot open almost immediately after the first blare (ever since the start of his intimate relationship with Starfire, he had ceased to sleep with his mask on) and threw himself off his bed even quicker.

Starfire on the other hand, was a little more lacklustre in pulling herself off of her beau's bed. Cracking her emerald orbs open slightly, she saw Robin hurriedly sifting through his wardrobe and picking out a fresh attire and slipping it on. The screaming sirens eventually registered in Starfire's senses. Now fully alert to the beckoning alarms, she hoisted herself off of the bed, grabbed her attire that she had neatly folded and placed on a nearby table and soon enough, she followed her boyfriend from the bedroom, through the hallways and into the living room.

In his room, Cyborg awoke instantaneously to the calls of the alarms. Since he had modified his communicator to be permanently placed in his cybernetic eye, the very nanosecond that the alarms had gone off, he woke up, disconnected his battery charger – his human eye registering that he was eighty percent charged – and made his way to the living room. The hissing doors parted and showed the figures of Robin and Starfire in the centre of the room, hovering directly in front of the television screen that showed the Titans trademark logo continuously flashing, a droning, monotonous panic beacon wailing out from the television speakers and . . . _a stream of black smoke rising from the city?_

Half a minute later, BeastBoy and Raven came cascading into the living room. The other three Titans turned their heads to see the pair of them, perspiration pouring down their foreheads, panting like dogs, side by side – Robin wondered for a split second why Raven was not wearing any shoes – with looks of panged shock, horror and utter disbelief. Before they had the chance to vocalise what they had bore witness to, the television screen begun to emit a different noise. This time, a high pitched beeping noise.

Robin spun his head towards the screen and saw that the television screen had gone from the T logo, to an map layout of the city. With every beep, a small red dot kept flashing. This indicated to the Boy Wonder, as well as his comrades, the exact position to where an incident had taken place. The sight of the red dot sent waves of panged terror, horror and perturbation through Robin's – well, everyone's – systems.

A few days after their return from Tokyo, crime had taken an increase and they came in so many varieties, that Robin decided to have a new, updated alarm system installed into the Titan's mainframe computer, to help them in their fight against crime. The result: colour coded distress signals, alerting the Titan's of the severity of the crime that was currently being committed. Everything from green signals which indicated vandalism incidents, to amber signals which indicated robberies, from blue signals which showed the Titans that a police chase in full flow and the police required help from the Titans, to red signals which alerted the Titan's of . . . suspected terrorist activity.

Tapping a variation of buttons in front of him, Robin's eyes zeroed in on the television screen zooming in on the location to where the 'terrorist activity' had taken place.

"Robin, what the hell's going on man?" Cyborg's voice – still filled with the remnants of sleep – filled Robin's ears.

With masked eyes still staring at the screen, Robin responded to his comrade, his voice booming throughout the entire living room, forceful, sharp and defiant "Alright team, we've got a suspected terrorist attack down in the centre of the city . . . the target was Caspar Confectionary"

Behind his back, Starfire, BeastBoy, Cyborg and Raven all looked at each other with faces full of . . . mixed emotion. These emotions were a concoction of both terror and confusion. The terror was – surprise, surprise – brought upon by the revelation that the incident at hand was a suspected terrorist attack – the first of time this had happened in Jump City – and confusion due to . . . well, why the hell would anyone want to blow up a sweet shop?

BeastBoy's voice now piped up "Dude, are you certain that the candy store has been targeted?" directing the question at the leader.

"Of course I'm certain BeastBoy" Robin's voice retorted back, failing to mask the slight irritation in his voice, all due to BeastBoy questioning his certainty and the television screen's coordinates.

_Well, that explains the smoke outside_, thought the half man half machine.

_Well, that explains the smoke and the tremors_, the blue cloaked sorceress thought, almost simultaneously with the cybernetic being.

Raven turned her head towards Starfire. She instantly noticed that the Tamaranian's emerald orbs were overflowing with tears. Raven knew that Starfire had never been aware exactly of what terrorism actually entailed . . . until seven months back. When the new warning system had been installed into the tower, Raven remembered Starfire wanting to learn what terrorism actually meant and what was involved in such acts; so she asked Raven to elucidate. Raven remembered teaching Starfire – though begrudgingly – about what terrorism was and what kind of methods are involved in modern day terrorist activity as well as previous terrorist activity throughout the world. After a lengthy schooling session – three and a half hours to be precise – the Tamaranian was left dumbstruck to these new revelations and Raven had left the alien being in her room as she was leaking tears like there was no tomorrow. Raven did not pay much notice to Starfire's sorrow all those months ago, but boy was she paying close attention now.

Starfire stood rooted to the ground, her hands covering her mouth – just letting out the tiniest of whimpers – and tears falling down her cheeks. The reason . . . terrorism. She remembered asking Raven about this word all those months ago, as she had no knowledge of it whatsoever. It was not exactly a term that had been used on her planet, but she was intent on learning its meaning. After Raven had explained to her what terrorism actually meant, she was – needless to say – disgusted and severely distraught with this new knowledge. Due to her curious nature, she conducted further research into this act. She was completely and utterly horrified with what she had discovered on the computer. She had read up on events such as: the nine-eleven attacks in New York City, the seven-seven London underground bombings, the bombings of a marine barracks in Beirut, countless IRA attacks in Ireland . . . the list was endless. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought that human beings were capable of such vile, vulgar and despicable acts. She was fully educated in the concept of war; the concept of two opposing forces going into combat and fighting one another. That was a situation were numerous people set out to fight others to the death and their opponents would do the same thing. War was an agreed circumstance. But the idea of people who deliberately go out of their way to designedly take innocent persons lives, without the innocent's avowal or averment . . . that was probably the most evil thing Starfire had ever comprehended in her life. This discovery made her realise that whilst earthlings were fascinating creatures that were capable to the most incredible, humble and gratifying achievements known throughout the entire universe . . . they were also capable for the most despicable, deplorable and disgraceful acts and intentions than any other creature alive. Before these discoveries, she had no fear of human beings . . . well, why should she have had any reservations at all? She was a Tamaranian warrior; she had supreme strength that no one alive could match and had her star bolt powers and laser eyes to go into combat against her adversaries. But now . . . she was convinced that human beings were the most deadly creatures she had ever come into contact with and were capable of the most atrocious acts imaginable.

_Why? Why would the earthlings want to hurt their fellow man in such cruel and unpleasant ways? For what is the reason the earthlings want to hurt people who have not hurt them in any way? Why would the humans want to bring such unwanted destruction and so much of the pain to the innocent? _These questions were the first things that entered the red headed alien when she first learned about terrorist activity. And these were the same questions that plagued her mind right now, like a virus swarming her mind. Hastily, she wiped away her tears, sniffed back the choked up emotion that gripped the back of her throat and straightened herself up, ready for action. The shell shock still present in her system, but she was a warrior. She could not let herself be plagued by any unwanted emotion that could potentially hinder herself in her duty as protector of the city she cared for so much.

Spinning around to face his team – all four Titans snapped out of their dazed state of bewilderedness – and spoke defiantly and sharply "Okay team, we know the situation we are facing at this present time. Although this is unlike anything we've faced before, we have to be strong for the people out there".

As he said this sentence, Robin glanced at each of his teammates, reading their emotions that were present in their eyes.

Starfire's were dark red and bloodshot where she had clearly been crying; his heart tightened at the sight of his love is such distress; he could tell that fear, trepidation and sorrow, mixed with her tears had consumed her.

Cyborg's only human eye did not release too much information to the Boy Wonder, but he just knew that the news had severely rocked the half man half machine right down to his core.

Raven's deadpan expression did not allow Robin to see how she was feeling at this moment, but glancing into her purple-blue eyes, he could tell that she was just as shaken as Starfire and Cyborg.

The forest green eyes of BeastBoy possibly showed the most worry; Robin thought that being the youngest Titan, perhaps this was the reason this had rocked him as bad as his eyes had let show.

If truth were to be told, Robin was feeling just as rattled as his comrades; this was the first act of suspected terrorism that Jump City had ever suffered and at first sight of this on the television screen, Robin's stomach had tightened more than a harp string. He too was aghast with what had occurred no more than a minute ago and was thankful that he had been looking at the television and not his compatriots when his had discovered the news. Even with his eyes being concealed by his mask, he was convinced that his team would have been able to tell that he was deeply disturbed by this attack. He could not allow himself to be distracted by these feelings that had constricted his being; they were all unavailing and unwanted at this moment in time. He had to be firm, authoritative, and assertive; he had to be the leader. Standing straight, he drew breathe and exclaimed, full of confidence, defiance, credence . . .

"TITANS . . . GO!"

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR**

_With reference to the temperature at night-time at the beginning, sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit is quite hot for those in the UK; I don't know what it's like in America so this was just a calculated guess. If it does reach those temperatures during September, then you people are lucky._

_(Dunno why I wrote that, guess I was just bored)_

_So far, this story has received just over 800 hits and for that, I'm incredibly thankful for those who have read this story as well as doing the other small things (reviewing, et cetera). _

_I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter and didn't miss me too much._

_Finally, lost one of its best authors very recently . . . _

_TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne recently 'hung-up-the-keyboard' and is no longer gracing this website with his stories._

_For those who have been on this site for a long time will more than definitely know/heard of this author and will understand what a great loss he is to this site._

_For those of you who have never heard of/read his stories, I encourage all of you to go and check them out:_

_They are awesome_

_You won't regret it_

_They are more than deserved of going in your favourites_

_Also, he and four other authors of TT FanFic's are currently collaborating on another story. So if you want to read what is turning out to be a really interesting story, check out 'Ganguro' on the FanFic page 'Zorkaberry Pie' . . . you'll see what I mean._

_And Force . . . you may be gone from this site, but you'll forever be remembered._

_TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne_

_08/10/2009 – 09/10/2010_

'_May the force always be with you'_

_:D_


	6. Chapter 5: Through Her Eyes

_Happy Halloween people (sorry for keeping you guys waiting for this)._

_Here with my treat . . . the next chapter!_

**Chapter Five – Through her eyes**

_Time: 4:09:53 a.m._

Standing no more than one hundred meters away, her back firmly pressed up against the coldness of the brick wall, the warmth of the heat wave that was caused by the blazing sweet shop swept over her face, sending a shrill of warmth from the top of her head, down to the tips of her toes. A Cheshire cat-like grin was etched on her face as she watched the building dilapidate, burn and disintegrate with every passing second.

The only thing that was pouring cold water on her own little fire, were the things that were pouring cold water on what once was Caspar Confectionary. Roughly three minutes ago, two fire engines had arrived and had proceeded in attempting to quell the fires; however – to her joy – the fire fighters were struggling in their task. Whenever the fire fighters looked as though they were close to extinguishing the flames, the inferno fought back valiantly against the water and continued to spread; they threatened to engulf the other buildings that sandwiched the now destroyed sweet shop.

She had to admit, the mixture of the fire engine's flashing blue lights, interspersed with the fiery concoction of red, yellow and orange was very . . . pretty. However, there was one thing that was more of an eye candy than the multicolour parade that was occurring at this moment in time . . . seeing the shop itself explode right in front of her very eyes.

_He _was very pleased with her success; _he _called her to say so. Hearing his voice congratulate her was so enthralling; it was hard to put into words what receiving an accolade from someone as notorious as _him_ was like, because it was such a rarity. He said that he would contact her again very shortly and was to wait for further instructions. _He_ thought that she was waiting for his new instructions at her apartment.

_If he knew I was here . . . no, it's not even worth thinking about what he would do_, an icy shiver shot down her spine. She knew _him_ very well, and if anything she knew, it was that you were to never disobey any of his commands . . . unless you had already written up your last will and testament. _But what he doesn't know can't hurt._

Exhaling softly, she shut her eyes and replayed the last few hours of the events leading up to this moment in her mind . . .

"_Excuse me missy, why don't you watch where you are going?" the small elderly women's voice shrieked as the young brunette collided into her._

_The dark haired girl had not stopped to apologise for clashing into the old-age pensioner. Truthfully, she had not even bothered to move out of her way. She saw the old girl hobbling directly towards but she just kept walking, until she smacked into the grey headed old witch. _What the hell was she going to do anyways?Does that decrepit old bitch seriously think that she could take me?

_Begrudgingly dismissing the pleasurable thought of crushing the old wench underneath her fist, she carried on walking . . . walking towards an inevitable disaster that she would be responsible for._

_As she continued her stride to her destination, she gave cursory glances to the herds of people who were on their way back to the habitats this early evening. People of different ages, genders, ethnicities, backgrounds, those with families of there own, those without families of there own . . . all of them soon to be devastated by what was going to happen._

All part of the plan_, those words were virtually tattooed into her mind. Such a simple plan, with simply brutal conclusions._

_Although the plan had been meticulously developed roughly seven months ago, she had been included in the plan for two and a half months. _

_When _he _had approached her wanting her 'assistance' for a 'job' he had planned, she originally told him to leave her alone and rebuffed his advances whenever he tried to contact her. At the time, he was a stranger, and male strangers who kept their facial features hidden usually only wanted one thing from young females. Whether he contacted her via her e-mail, mobile phone number – God knows how he managed to get those details; but she did find out eventually – he would relentlessly badger her into working alongside him. Whenever she took the brave leap in pressing him for more details about this 'job' after he called her, he hung up. After he had stopped trying to contact her after three days, she was convinced that he had received the message and stopped bothering her._

_It was on one weekend however, that her attitude towards _him_ and his 'job' had changed._

_She did not remember all the details clearly. All she did remember was that she had been standing at the water's edge on Jump City beach one cool, breezy summers evening; the coolness of the winds brushed along her face, the salty aura of the sea filled her nostrils, tickling the back of her throat, her eyes dazzled by the orange sun, descending, being swallowed up by the crisp, blue sea with every second that passed. Those three little things delighted her senses._

_But the appreciation of these little pleasures were suddenly cut short as she suddenly blacked out . . . she clearly did not notice the person behind her, who had followed her, who had rendered her unconscious thanks to the use of chloroform._

_She did not know how long she had been unconscious for, or what the hell had previously happened to her, all she knew was that when she woke up she was . . . well, she had no idea where she was, but wherever it was, it was a nicely kept apartment, clean, good sanitation, the powerful stench of bleach, polish and pine tree air freshener empowered her nose; and the sofa was incredibly comfortable. And then _he_ entered the room._

_If this was any other day, she would have caused a riot, start attacking the man and call the police immediately without haste. However, this time, she felt . . . comfortable to be around him, relaxed, she felt safe._

_After the formal introductions were out of the way, _he_ began to tell her of the proposition that he had. She listened intently, careful, hanging onto every single word that was pouring out of his mouth._

He_ knew that without his little 'cocktail', she would have been repulsed with what he had in mind, what he had planned, that he had even asked her to help. But all thanks to his 'cocktail', she would not resist his offer, she would accept, she would be more than obliged to assist; she would snap at the offer and would not think twice. He knew that she was completely under his dominance, and nothing would perturb her from denying any command he gave. He was not at all surprised that she 'gladly' accepted his proposition. He smiled maniacally once she had accepted; she too was smiling just as maniacally as he was._

_His logic, his reasoning, his motivation made complete sense to her. Every minute detail that he told her was simply brilliant; she was disappointed that she ever turned _him_ away countless times before. In fact, she felt honoured that out of every other citizen in Jump City, _he_ chose _her_. _

_She was to become part of history . . . who would not want to take this opportunity by the horns?_

_Back in the present time, she was now standing in Caspar Confectionary; milling about the array of sweets that were on offer. She waited until the last few customers had finished being served and for a moment when the old bastard behind the counter was distracted._

_A few seconds later, the last two customers had left the shop with their sugary treats and she was left alone with the owner. _

_She had to use an opportunity where he was gone and she could get to work. Unfortunately, she could not think of a distraction._

_Finally, one had presented itself. The old fool had called out to her and asked her if she wanted any sweets that were on one of the top shelves. Uncertain where this was going, she replied that she did. The old fool then went out back, saying that he would retrieve the ladder out back and would return to help her. She thanked God for his intervention . . . she now had the perfect opportunity._

_She knew that the next few moments was either going to be successful, or months of planning were going to go tumbling down the gutter. Rapidly, she loosened her backpack straps, threw the bag off her back and unzipped it. Lunging her hand into the bag, she pulled out the single item that once inhabited the backpack . . . a block of plastic explosives._

_Hastily, she threw her eyes towards the windows of the sweet shop; she thanked her lucky stars that none of the drones outside were paying any attention to her. She turned her head in the opposite direction towards the counter; she sighed in relief as the old fool had not returned yet._

_She had no more time to waste; stalling for another second would without a doubt mean the difference between success and failure. And she dare not fail, because if she failed . . . she gulped; it was not worth thinking about what _he _would do to her. She could run from her to the ends of the earth and she would never be safe._

_She dropped to her knees next to one of the many shelves that were stacked with jar upon jar of assorted sweets. She pressed a red button on the stick of explosives and up came two analogue clocks. One clock was flashing a red, luminous time of 04:00:00, whilst another clock was flashing next to the zero-four-hundred hours; this clock was counting upwards . . . 18:56:25 . . . 18:56:26 . . . 18:56:27 . . . and so on and so forth. She pressed a small black button next; this froze the flashing of both times, but the counting analogue clock kept on going._

Good, it's officially set, _she grinned evilly as this thought crossed her mind. Her heart thrashed with anticipation, her hands shook with diabolical glee, and the rest of her body was fuelled with adrenaline; surging through her body like an ever-growing fire. She stuck the C4 underneath the shelf, despite her shaky hands; she managed to fasten it securely._

_The sound of footsteps on creaky floorboards sent her heart racing even more. The thrilling notion that the plan had gone off without a single hitch, amalgamated with the possibility that she was going to get caught became too much to bear. Neglecting to zip the backpack shut, she threw one of the straps over her right shoulder and bolted straight for the door; she did not bother to respond to the old fool who owned the shop as he called out to her._

_A few moments after leaving the shop, she had calmed herself down, reduced her heart rate back to a steady sixty-five beats per minute and was coolly, calmly and collectively gliding down the street. Even though she could tell that a few eyes had rested on her as she left Caspar Confectionary – possibly looking flustered, she could not remember – she ignored those stares and continued on walking as though nothing had happened._

Dark-chocolate eyes snapped open to the vibrating in the back pocket of her skin tight jeans. As her eyes were greeted again to the fiery spectacle that was occurring right in front of her, a sly grin spread across her face . . . _That'll be him._

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the twenty dollar flip phone she got from a charity shop and opened it up. Reading the screen, she saw that she had been sent a text message from him. On the screen, was the new set of instructions for her next duty. She read the message the _he _had sent and knew exactly what she was to do next. She closed the flap on the mobile phone and returned it to her back pocket. She then bent down, undid the zips on the backpack (which was already sat next to her feet) she had bought with her and double-checked the contents; she wanted to be absolutely certain that everything she required for the next few hours were in her bag. Scanning through the items, occasionally moving one or two items aside as to check on everything that was buried beneath, she was now secure in her mind that everything was present in her bag. Grinning with satisfaction, she pulled a white and red stripped plastic bag out of the backpack, closed the bag, threw it on her back and fastened the straps. Rising to her feet, she stared out towards the still-burning glory in front of her.

The fire-fighters were still battling endlessly in their gruelling attempt to cease the fires. A bunch of citizens had congregated out on the streets – all of them keeping as safe of a distance as possible – all standing in shock and awe of the inferno they were witnessing before their very eyes. Unlike those people, she had bore witness to all the events that had unfolded.

Originally, she was going to sleep until she received _his _next set of instructions; that was the discussed plan. However, the idea of seeing the results of her work in the early hours of the morning was just too enticing of a proposition to reject. So, she decided to wake up bright and early and bare witness to the fiery exhibition . . . and even though this went against _his_ precise instructions to follow _his_ orders, she just could not resist.

Out in the distance, she could hear a set of sirens blaring hundreds of meters away. She knew that no more fire engines would be needed for killing the fires here, so she deduced that those sirens were from police vehicles. She was about to make haste but was stopped in her tracks. Her eyes tore away from the burning building and situated themselves up to the sky.

Soaring through the sky, she made out five figures that were approaching her direction. You did not need to be Albert Einstein in order to work out what- or who – these five figures were. A surge of bile, disgust and repulsion built itself in her stomach before threatening to climb up her oesophagus and exit out of her mouth. The five people whom – much like _him _– had grown to despise with every pore and bone in her body . . . The Titans.

Deciding that now would be the best time to evacuate the vicinity, she pulled up the hood up on her hoodie, turned on her heel and began her trek towards the next target.

She walked a small way along the pavement before diverting from her route and turned down an alleyway. Despite keeping a safe distance from herself and the destroyed sweet shop that she was responsible for destroying, she could not run the risk of someone catching her from the corner of their eye and reporting a suspicious looking girl standing a hundred meters away, with long black hair, in a dark coloured hoodie, blue skin tight jeans and a pair of black trainers. That girl had to disappear . . .

_. . . And disappear she shall._

Once she was satisfied that she was fully concealed in the shadows, she carefully lowered the plastic bag onto the concrete floor. Next, she loosened the straps of her backpack and allowed it to slide off her shoulders before bringing it in front of her. With both bags sitting next to each other, she unzipped the backpack and followed that up shortly by untying the knot on the plastic bag. She glanced into the backpack and removed the all black plimsoll shoes and the black cardigan. She placed the shoes on the ground and the neatly folded cardigan on top. Next, she glanced into the plastic bag and the single item that it held; a brown wig that was styled in a bob cut.

First, she removed her navy blue hoodie and stuffed it into the backpack and slipped on the cardigan.

Secondly, she tore off her black Nike trainers, shoved them into the backpack and covered her feet with the plimsolls. Now that her wardrobe had been changed, she had to change her head. She achieved this by ripping off the long black wig and disposing of it in a nearby, open dumpster . . . _Plenty more where that came from. _

Before leaving her apartment, she had bundled her real hair up tightly into a net, so the changing of the wigs was no hassle whatsoever. Once she changed wigs, she zipped up her backpack, deliberately neglected the plastic bag and crept up to the corner of the entrance to the alleyway.

In the distance, she could see that the fire-fighters were close to subduing the flames . . . _Shame._ Even more punters had congregated around the almost smouldering wreck; the stench would have been described as sickly by those people; to her though, he smelt sweet, delectable . . . it smelt like victory.

Lastly, she could see the Titans. All five of them had finally arrived and could see that Robin was in deep conversation with one of the officers. She could only imagine what their faces must have been like once they arrived at the scene of the crime. She imagined that the Titans were shocked, horrified, disturbed. They were more than definitely disgusted with what they saw, struggling to comprehend the unfathomable incident that took place roughly a quarter of an hour ago, shocked with panged horror that anyone could have destroyed such a seemingly innocent family business . . . she could not put into words the gratification that she felt with imagining these certain possibilities.

_Little do they know, that this is just the beginning,_ she delighted in this thought. _He_ had something much bigger in mind. In just twenty-four hours, Jump City will be in for the biggest surprise that anyone could ever imagine; a surprise that will indeed change the ugly face of this city for good. And the most ironic thing about all of this . . . The Titans could end this all. They had the answer sitting right on their laps. The answer was staring right in front of them; buried in their subconscious it might have been, but they still possessed the answer. They knew _where_ he was, they knew _who_ he was . . . they knew who _she _was. They would find out soon enough, but by then . . . _it will all be too late._ And with that final thought, she left the comforting fortress of the alleyway shadows and marched her way down the street . . . to her next destination . . . to the next target . . . to the next victim.

_Time: 4:12:05 a.m._

Soaring through the night-time sky, Robin (who was being carried by Starfire), Starfire, Raven (who was flying solo), Cyborg (being carried by BeastBoy) and BeastBoy – who was flying in the form of a pterodactyl – stared in abject shock to the sight of Caspar Confectionary in flaming wreck.

"Oh . . . my . . . God" Robin barely whispered beneath his breath at the horrific display that was occurring in front of him. Behind him, he heard Starfire's horrified gasp to the sight in front of her. Murmurs from Raven and Cyborg also filled his ears; barely audible, but he could tell that these murmurs followed along the same lines with his own exclamation.

Despite the yellow-clad fire fighters battling their hardest to distinguish the flames, they were struggling. This was obviously no vandal who rode by and threw a Molotov through the window . . . this was much more serious.

The gushing waters, the billowing smoke, the smouldering fires; all of these infringed the senses of the Titans; inhaling this concoction almost made them vomit.

The five heroes eventually touched concrete and made their way towards the red fire engines. A minute later, a wave of five police cars came speeding down the road; wailing sirens and dancing blue lights flooded the street, reflecting off the walls of the buildings. Once the black and white vehicles had reached the scene, a herd of police officers hurtled out of the cars; some began to move the observing public away so that they were safe from any potential danger, cordoning off the area with the symbolic yellow and black cordon and shooing away paparazzo's and newscasters (who had arrived almost at the same time as the police officers).

A couple more minutes had passed before the Titans were approached by stocky looking gentleman who was wearing a long-sleeved black, buttoned shirt – open collared – accompanied by a white tie which hung very loosely around his neck, matching black trousers and black shoes. The gentleman marched his way up to the Titans.

The Titans had noticed the man approaching them. Being the leader, Robin was the one that the gentleman approached. As the gentleman held out his hand, Robin reciprocated this mans gesture; firmly gripping this mans hand. During mid-shake, the unknown man introduced himself as . . .

"Lieutenant Steve Brauner"

"Lieutenant" replied Robin acknowledging the man in front of him. Without the attire, Robin would have guessed that the Lieutenant was . . . well, anything other than a lieutenant. Lieutenant Steve Braunercould not have been any older than thirty years old, a full head of blonde hair, piercing green eyes, clean shaven and showing no signs of sleep-deprivation, considering how early in the morning it was. He would have been someone who could perhaps play the role of a Lieutenant in a movie or something.

"Our system at the tower indicated that this was terrorist activity' Robin said, closely studying the lieutenant's demeanour. If he was perturbed by the event that had occurred, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

The lieutenant gazed into the inferno as the teen hero finished his sentence. He had been finishing paperwork when he received word that the sweet shop had been blown up. One of his co-workers told him that the station received a call from a pedestrian that they was walking on the opposite end of the street when they heard the booming sound of an explosion, glass windows disintegrating and the tinkering of glass hitting the concrete rang out and the combination of blazing fires and black smoke billowing wildly out of the shop. On the way here, the lieutenant had time to compose himself and make sure that he was neither erratic nor panicked; if he was, then his team would panic . . . and if everyone was panicking, then it would be disaster everywhere.

The lieutenant filled the Boy Wonder in on this information.

Robin was listening intently to what Steve was saying. He knew that the police would find the person who called and take further information – as it was standard procedure for the police to do so – and ask the public around them for any detail, whilst that was occurring, the Titans would . . .

". . . search the vicinity and see if we can uncover anything that . . ."

"Absolutely not young man" the lieutenant's voice interjected.

Robin stared at the lieutenant with wide-eyed confusion, which was being matched by the other four heroes behind him.

"Excuse me?" asked the Boy Wonder.

Keeping his eyes firmly on the blazing sweet shop, Steve carried on "I'm not allowing you to go into that building . . ." he turned his head to face Robin "this is an occasion where we will not be requiring you and your team's assistance". And with that defining statement, he turned his head again, back onto the fires; which by now showed signs of surrender.

Robin was livid. Here, a sweet shop had been the subject of a terrorist attack, had been targeted for some reason by someone; that someone was still out there on the loose . . . and the lieutenant has said that he does not want help from the Titans?

_No_, the Boy Wonder though defiantly, _No, I'm not accepting this._

"Lieutenant . . ." Robin's voice was hinted with a dose of irritation at the officer's dismissal of the superheroes ". . . with all due respect, we were signalled to come down here. Our duties as superheroes are to protect the city and aide the authorities whenever help is required. You've never had a problem with us being involved in fighting crime in the past, so what's your problem now?"

Lieutenant Steven Brauner noticed the last sentence of The Boy Wonder's query had a spot of venom in it and knew he said that to provoke a reaction from him. Choosing to pretend that he had not heard that last part, the Lieutenant coolly responded "I'm fully aware of you and . . . your team's contribution . . ."

Robin took slight to this. _What does he mean by me and my teams 'contribution'? We do a damn sight more than these pigs do . . . if not, we do everything. _Fury boiled up inside him like a bubbling cauldron. _Who does this prick think he is?_

". . . but think about it . . . once these fires have been distinguished, we're gonna secure the building, get forensic officers in there, do a full sweep of the building, gather anything that's going to help us in finding the bastard who did this; God knows how long all that's going to take."

He turned his head to look at the walking set of traffic-lights "How exactly can you help in these set of circumstances? If you and your team wish to help . . . you can ask these people around us if they saw anything out of the blue; you know, your team, help my team"

If the Lieutenant was aiming to snap Robin's last nerve, he had succeeded. Batman's former protégé had never remembered feeling this insulted his entire life. If it was not for Starfire's hand resting on his shoulder, he would have snapped right there and then. The boiling feeling in his gut was simmering and it was not long before he had finally cooled down.

Turning to face his friends – not his _team_ – a look of upmost disdain on his face which was being mirrored on the other four faces, Robin exhaled in defeat before declaring "Titans . . . it looks like we're not needed here; first time for everything I guess . . ." he said that last part loud enough for the Lieutenant to hear.

"I guess we should go back to the tower" Robin could not think of anything that any of them could do at this moment in time; going home seemed to be the only option they had.

Collectively, Starfire, Raven, Cyborg and BeastBoy nodded. All four of them were just as dejected as their team leader. In front of them was a burning building that had been blown up not twenty minutes ago – which had been specifically targeted for some reason – and the authorities did not require their help?

Setting themselves up to leave, the Lieutenant's voice filled their ears "When we discover something, we'll clue you five up"

Whispering, BeastBoy exclaimed expletives under his breathe – quiet enough so that the Lieutenant could not hear him – which extracted a small wave of laughter from Robin, Starfire, Cyborg and . . . Raven? Only Robin had noticed this, but still . . . _Raven? Laughing at something BeastBoy said? What's this about?_

_Time: 4:51:02 a.m._

Shoving the crowbar underneath the gap in the window and pushing down on it with all her strength, it eventually loosened and using her hands, she pushed the window open. Resting the blunt piece of metal on the window frame, she hoisted herself up and slipped into the detached house, carefully, quietly, unnoticed.

Landing on the laminated floorboards of the kitchen, she crept swiftly out of the kitchen – leaving the window open, but taking the crowbar with her – and out into the hallway. Brown eyes lying on the wooden staircase in front of her, she began to climb each step. Her heart ended up in her throat after the first three steps as they had all creaked underneath her feet, no matter how carefully she was stepping and how much time she was taking to make her way up the stairs.

After taking nearly two minutes to climb the twenty-plus stairs, she came face to face with the old bag's room . . . the room that she had no intention of going in. Unlike the owner of the sweet shop, this old whore was going to have an _accident_.

She shifted slowly to the right, concealing herself in the shadows. Once she hid herself out of sight, she pulled the flip phone out of her back pocket and opened it up. The phone's screen showed her that the time was five minutes from five o'clock. Closing the flap, she returned the phone to her back pocket . . . and waited.

She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing pattern and waited.

Three minutes later, the ringing of an alarm clock sounded in the woman's bedroom.

_Almost time now, _she thought in delight, _it's all part of the plan. Funny, little does this bitch know; she's playing a very important role in what's going to happen._

A minute later, the bedroom door opened. Her eyes landed on an elderly woman, dressed in a pearly white gown and lilac slippers, leaving her dormitory and making her way to the top of the stairs.

_Time to move_, she thought. Stepping slowly out of the shadows, she quietly approached the old woman who was a quarter of the way down the stairs. Standing at the top of the stairs, she tightened the grip she had on the lump of steel in her and raised it above her head. She shifted her foot down one of the steps to better her position. Unfortunately, she did not count on the step creaking beneath her weight.

Turning around, the old woman saw at the top of the stairs . . . a young female with a crowbar raised above her head? Terror lit up on her face, her heart rate had sky rocketed . . . she lost her footing.

The sight of the woman tumbling down the stairs; the thudding of her frail, skeletal frame filling _her_ ears was – to say the least – pleasurable. The second the old woman's body hitting the floor, _she_ made her way down the stairs, slowly, a smile plastered from ear to ear.

She stood next to the old cow's motionless body – which was face down on the floor – and poked it with her foot. She did not respond. She bent down, cautiously; she slipped a hand underneath the woman's nose.

_Damn!_

The old woman was still breathing. This was bad . . . this was very, very bad.

_His_ instructions were abundantly clear; she had to bring this old bitch's attention to the Titans; she was an important pawn for the whole plan.

_Without her, the Titans won't be aware of the _big idea_. It's my responsibility to grab their attention._ Wracking her brains, she tried to think of a way to bring the Titans sniffing around this house. With every second she spent wasting, was one less second from her preparing herself for her next job. _How the hell am I going to . . .?_

Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the old witch. She had eventually stirred from her dazed stupor and was coming to.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it, _now she was stuck. She was supposed to do just two jobs. However, one she did not have clue how she was going to carry out and two, the old cow was not dead. _What the fuck am I going to do now?_

Her eyes rested on the old woman's orbs. She could easily tell that panic had set in, fear had consumed her entirely and a sense of consternation was blatantly present.

The old woman cracked her mouth open ever so slightly. Her voice was incredibly raspy; her attempt in creating speech was trembling with every breath she took, struggling to make any noise at all. Desperately, she stared up at the young woman towering over her, crowbar in hand, pleading for help.

She could hear the old wench pleading for help from her; and immediately, the proverbial light bulb above her head switched on. Now she knew how she could attract the attention of the Titans.

She pulled her mobile phone out from her back pocket, opened the flap – the screen illuminating her face – and tapped in just three numbers. Lifting the phone to her ear, the dialling tone ran in her head as she waited for a voice on the other end.

After waiting for no more than what felt like ten seconds, the monotone ringing had ceased before being replaced by a woman's voice.

"Hello, Jump City General Hospital" proclaimed the strangers voice.

Crouching next to the elderly women, she put the phone down to the old girl's mouth.

The old woman could not believe what was happening. Had the young girl had a change of heart and had decided to help her after all? Sucking in oxygen, she breathing heavily into the mouthpiece of the mobile phone, "Please . . . help . . . me . . ."

The voice on the other end of the phone responded, "Madam what seems to be the problem?"

Tears had started to fall down the old woman's face. She really needed help; she thought that if she did not get any help, she would be left on the roughness of the floorboards to slip away into the afterlife. She just prayed to God that by some divine intervention, emergency services would arrive and come to her aide.

"Please . . . I . . . n-need . . . h-h-help . . . p-p-p-please . . ." those last words ended on a burst of tears. She was craving help so badly. She just hoped that the women operator would send help her way. Could the operator not tell that she was in desperately in need of help?

"Miss, where do you live?" asked the operator, whose voice showed a tinge of concern towards the old woman's plea.

Upon hearing this question from the operator, _she_ brought the phone away from the wenches' mouth and decided to intervene on the conversation. She was pretty sure that the phone call was being recorded; whether the phone number could potentially be traced, she was not particularly worried about. Being cautious, she lowered the volume of her voice substantially into nothing more than a faint whisper; the pattering of feet from a dormouse would have made even more of a noise she did . . .

"1679 Ridenour Street" and with that, she immediately snapped the phone shut.

Now that the attention of the authorities had been dealt with, there was just one last job she had to accomplish.

The old woman was writhing at _her_ feet, her eyes pleading for help, begging for the young woman towering over her to provide some sort of assistance. She lifted a quivering, shrivelled, pale white hand up towards the brunette, as though she was expecting to be pulled up and placed somewhere more comfortable and not to left on the floorboards. More pain shot through her body as the brunette responded by taking her foot, placing it on the old woman's shoulder and forcing her onto her back.

_It's now or never_.

_She_ had to get this over and done with or the whole plan would be spoiled.

The old woman's body with filled with pure terror as the young female gripped the crowbar tightly in both hands. Her skin was caked in goose bumps . . .

One: because the she was starting to feel her body temperature dropping by the moment. And . . .

Two: the brunette was now lowering by her side and was shifting the crowbar in her hands.

_It's now or never_.

_She _had to make everything authentic; not too blatantly obvious like the sweet shop, but leaving enough evidence to know that this was no accident.

This was it. There was no escape from this predicament. The old woman was history . . . and was to play a part in history.

"No . . . please . . . don't . . ." her pleas of upmost desperation were barely wheezed from her mouth; the salty tears falling down her cheeks and into her mouth stung her tongue.

_It's now or never . . ._

_It's now or never . . ._

_It's now or never . . ._

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**

_Hope you all enjoyed my Halloween treat._

'_But GreenRock, how can I treat you back?' . . . Well I'm glad you asked._

_You can treat me with a review. Whether you liked this chapter or hated it . . . it's all good._

_Usual thanks go out to those who have reviewed, read et cetera . . . _


	7. Chapter 6: What's Going On?

_It's Sunday and you know what that means . . . chapter time! Yippee._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter Six – What's going on?**

_Time: 4:51:35 a.m._

Twenty minutes ago, the sound of groans, moans and disparages filled the deserted corridors and hallways of the Titans Tower. The collective voices of Robin, Starfire, Raven, BeastBoy and Cyborg echoed with upmost dissatisfaction, not only due to the fact that they had been woken up at an ungodly hour – except for a certain empath and changeling – but also because they were unceremoniously dismissed by a rude, pompous, Mr. too-big-for-his-boots lieutenant.

Roughly twelve miles away, a sweet shop was burning to the ground – the sight of black smoke had thinned out but it was still highly visible from where the Tower was situated – because of someone choosing to blow it up . . . and here they were; in the confines of the Tower where they were powerless to help.

Robin was not going to let Lieutenant Steve Brauner's rhetoric stop him from pursuing this case. Once he returned to the Tower, Robin immediately hit the tower's computer system. He had spent the last twenty-plus minutes reviewing the reports of every crime that had been committed in the last year, trying to find uncover anything similar to this happening in the Jump City area recently or anyone who had the means or potential of committing this heinous act. In the end . . . nothing. Trawling through all the reports and records of those who had recently been released back into society, Robin ended up empty handed. Despite coming up short on his first attempt, Robin kept tapping away on the keyboard just on the faint hope that he was going to stumble upon something that would help him.

Starfire chose to follow Robin into the living room when the team returned. When Robin announced that he was going cipher through the cities criminal records and reports, she decided to stay with him. After he ended up with zero results about three times in succession, Starfire attempted to prise her boyfriend away from the computer screen, to which he shunned her; going on a rampant tirade about how someone had blown up the sweet shop and how that person was still out there, about how just because the lieutenant had turned them away, that was not going to stop him from finding the perpetrator, about how . . . Starfire got the gist of Robin's garble before turning away and leaving in abject melancholy. She knew that when Robin was in this frame of mind, it was best to leave him to his work. Although she understood, that did not mean that she liked it.

Cyborg decided to head straight to his room. Once he entered the confines of his dormitory, he double checked that the tower's security system was in full effect. After doing this, he checked his battery level and saw that it had only gone down by one percent (seventy-nine percent). When he was in combat, his battery levels would decrease rapidly, whereas when he was not in combat, his battery cells would decrease by one percent every half an hour or so. Since he did not have any errands to do or any jobs to undertake, he chose to juice himself up to the max; none of his teammates needed him for anything and had split off in different direction. Being left alone to wander back to his room filled him with a sense of solitary. Well, Robin had Starfire for close companionship – and he knew full well that Star would follow Robin like a dog – and he had noticed (even if it was for a brief period of time) that the awkward aura between BeastBoy and Raven seemed to have suddenly subsided – _I'd love to know when the heck that happened_, he thought to himself_ – _so . . . who exactly was there for Cyborg?

Raven chose to retreat to her room, where she decided to resume a book that she was currently reading; she also wanted to avoid a certain changeling. Actually, she was still reeling from the events that had occurred no more than an hour ago as well as her outburst of laughter when the team left the authorities at the burning sweet shop. She could sense that Robin knew that something was very out of place after she laughed at BeastBoy's tasteless remarks about the Lieutenant – it was Robin after all.

The confusion that filled Raven's mind was laid on thick and heavy. Yes; she had finally broken her week-long evasion of BeastBoy. Yes; she had finally apologised to BeastBoy for her behaviour seven months ago. Yes; he had accepting her apology. So why was there a lingering feeling of doubt inside her?

When she had stared into the changeling's eyes after her apology, not only did she feel everything that made her . . . feel accepted; whenever he would be around her – like he made her feel a year ago – but she felt an aura of uncertainty about him.

Quietly, she whispered aloud to herself "Why? Why did he feel uncertain? Did he mean it when he accepted my apology? Did he mean all those words? Did he even believe that I was genuine?"

These reservations brought upon a headache which required Raven to adopt the lotus position on her bed and within seconds, she was defying gravity; suspending above her bed; unaware the a few trinkets had been levitated due to her headache.

Reciting her trademark mantra over and over and over, she easily found her centre and felt at peace; her headache subsequently subsided.

_- tap tap tap -_

The faint knocking on her door brought Raven out of her state of equanimity.

She descended until she was sitting on her bed, swung her legs around so that her feet were touching the floor and stood up. Taking slow footsteps, she approached the metal blockade and pushed it aside. Her heart skipped a beat or two as her purple eyes crashed onto forest green eyes.

**- Elsewhere -**

Peering around the corner, the red headed Tamaranian saw BeastBoy enter the confines of Raven's dormitory; an ecstatic wave of happiness swept through her, joined with a smile that slowly started to make its way onto her face.

Not long ago, she had left the living room where Robin's relentless rapping on the keyboard had grated on Starfire's last nerve so much that she just _had_ to leave that room before she snapped. Well, the smacking of the keys was one of the reasons, the second was . . .

_**TEN MINUTES AGO**_

_With her chin resting of the palm of her hand, Starfire stared droopy-eyed at Robin as – once again – his scour of the criminal records of recently released offenders and criminal activity of the past year and left him with zilch. Once he had finished a prolonged groan, his clicking of the keys began again._

_Exhaling in frustration, Starfire stood up and walked over to her beau and wrapped her arms around him. Softly, she sweet talked into Robin's ear "Robin, please do a bit of the breaking and . . ."_

"_Star please stop distracting me" Robin used a stray arm to brush off Starfire's loose embrace._

_Standing with a look that could only be described as abject stupefaction, Starfire bore holes into the back off Robin's head._

"_Robin" Starfire spoke calmly and concise; hiding the shock inside her "I know that you are the _pissed _off because of the Lieutenant doing the dismissal of you, but . . ."_

"_Starfire" interrupting his girlfriend once again, Robin spoke out, this time, his voice showed a lot more irritation than the last time "someone has destroyed Caspar Confectionary and they are still out there. I don't know if you've figured it out, but I _have_ to find this bastard so that they don't do anything else like this. So please" he spun in his chair, stood up and faced her; his masked eyes not giving a moments thought of the hurt that was emanating from the alien princesses eyes "unless you're going to contribute to helping me find this monster, then just . . . leave"_

_Starfire did well to hold back on the tears; until Robin had turned his back on her. She sniffed back hard and whimpered louder than she usually did when she was severely upset, wanting her boyfriend to know how her words had hurt her. He did not react. _

He does not care; _this thought was enough to cause Starfire to run out of the living room._

_The hissing of the living room doors opening and then closing filled Robin's ears. He exhaled vociferously before shaking his head. _She just simply doesn't understand how important this is. She doesn't care about the fact that the lieutenant made us look like idiots out there. She doesn't care that there's a madman out there who annihilated a small business and could do that to any other building in the city. _Rubbing his temples vigorously, he laid his eyes back on the computer screen. Soon enough, he resumed his finger work on the keys; _Well, she may not give a damn . . . but _I _do.

_With her back pressed against the wall, Starfire allowed the tears to drop, one by one, from her cheeks to the carpeted floor. She lifted her head and stared at the living rooms doors "I know that you wish to spend the time in finding the bad guy my love" her head dropped "I only wish that you would spend the time with the ones that love you"_

_She felt that she had to talk to someone that could help her ease her mind, reassure her doubt about whether her boyfriend actually loved her as much as she loved him. She believed that person to be Raven._

_Raven was always the one Starfire could talk to. Yes, she was not someone who had ever experienced the connection of two people who loved one another, but yet, she was always full of useful advice and could be incredibly philosophical and unbelievable wise. Starfire knew that she could always turn to her purple haired pal whenever she need to._

_As Starfire turned the last corner, like a flash of lightning, she retreated back behind the corner. Peeking around the corner, her eyes landed on the sight of . . . _BeastBoy_ knocking on _Raven's _door._

_Initially, Starfire was surprised by this sight, but then she remembered: BeastBoy and Raven entering the common earlier – side by side no less – BeastBoy's unsavoury comments about the Lieutenant Steve Brauner and Raven finding his comments amusing, even whilst Robin was conversing with the Lieutenant, Starfire caught moments where Raven and BeastBoy caught each other's eye and the pair of them looked away . . . shyly? Uncomfortably? Shamefully?_

_**PRESENT MOMENT**_

Starfire was not sure, but she held strongly to her own belief that those two were . . . what was that expression? _Building the bridges of the burnt?_ She could not remember exactly.

The moment that BeastBoy had disappeared out of view, Starfire chose to leave this particular vicinity and decided to find where Cyborg had disappeared to.

Despite her earlier feelings of sadness, the belief that BeastBoy and Raven were reconstructing the 'burnt bridges' filled her with a sense of hope. She hated seeing her closest friends acting the way they did towards one another, so the prospect of those two finally reconciling, well . . . all one could do, was hope.

**- Elsewhere -**

BeastBoy entered the confines of Raven's bedroom. His eyes studied every detail of her room, the artefacts that either lay on her table and the ornaments that were illuminated by the flickering of a candle or two. Despite these minute illuminations, a shiver shot through his system. He had not been in the empath's room for . . . well, ever since the incident where he and Cyborg had been sucked through the mirror that Raven owned; BeastBoy swore that it glimmered red out of the corner of his eye.

Raven's eyes glared at the green skinned teen with total bewilderment. He wandered over to the curtain-less windows and gazed out into the city. The view did not show the last remnants of the flaming sweet shop, instead: an uninterrupted view of the Pacific rested peacefully, the shimmering and sparkling of the water mirrored the stars that gleamed above; the infinitesimal glow of orange peaked ever so slightly out of the watery blanket.

However, Raven was not paying a great deal of attention to nature's spectacle; instead, her attention was being gravitated towards the boy that was staring out of her window. Unbeknown to her, his heart was pounding just as quickly as her.

As BeastBoy gazed towards the ocean, the confusion that weighed heavy on his mind – the same one that accompanied him on his journey to the empath's room – was getting increasingly heavier. The reason he was confused . . . his conversation with Raven on the roof earlier. Particularly with her explanation with why she abused him so badly.

'_I . . . honestly don't know BeastBoy'._

_What kind of an answer was that? There's always a reason behind every action. _That answer did not settle well with BeastBoy. Nor did her next response . . .

'_I wasn't in a good place at the time BeastBoy. I wasn't thinking correctly and I took it out on you'_

BeastBoy continued to wrack his mind; she_ wasn't in a good place at the time? What kind of a response is that?_ Yes he said he forgave her, but did he really believe those words? The truth . . . he did not know.

"BeastBoy?"

The croaky monotone of his female comrade reminded BeastBoy of her presence.

Raven resumed her dialogue "Is there any reason that you've come here?"

After furiously rubbing his eyes, Robin ran his green-gloved hands through his hair, exhaled vehemently and glared back at the computer screen. Again, his search came back with zero results.

The frustration of his thirty plus minute trawl nearly drove him to insanity; the urge to drive his fist through the computer seemed tempting.

He knew he needed to calm down and he knew the one person that he could rely on to alleviate the pressures of his mind. However, when he turned his head, he found that person to be . . . _gone?_

A fog of depression descended over Robin. He knew that he got too wrapped up in trawling through the criminal files and the way he reacted to Starfire was blatantly out of order; as well as the thoughts that followed. Knowing that he had to make amends with his girlfriend, he rose from the swivel chair and made his way out of the living room and began his search for the red-headed Tamaranian.

Passing through the hallways, he made his way to his dormitory – believing that she would be in there – upon opening his door, he was disappointed to not see her in the room. Sliding the door shut, he chose to make his way to her bedroom.

Turning one of the infinite amounts of corners there were in the building, he passed Raven's room and noticed two things: her door was not fully shut and . . . there were voices exiting from the space in the door. One obviously belonged to Raven, the second belonged to . . . BeastBoy? BeastBoy . . . in Raven's room?

He recalled the previous incidences of BeastBoy and Raven entering the living together, side by side

_Okay, maybe I can find out what the hells going on between those two once and for all,_ shifting himself silently and vigilantly towards Raven's door, he pressed his back against the wall, slowly cranked his neck so that he could make out the speech patterns and listened intently.

"BeastBoy, is there any reason that you've come here?"

Well, there was a reason that he came here. He wanted to clear up the confusion the shrouded his mind about what happened on the roof an hour ago. He wanted to know whether – by being face to face with Raven – if he truly accepted Raven's explanation and whether he meant it when he accepted his apology.

Making his next move, BeastBoy turned to face Raven and realised that she was standing a considerable distance from him and that her hood was shadowing her face.

_Damn it_, BeastBoy really wanted to know if, via the connection of his eyes on the purple-haired beauty's eyes . . . _there's the 'B' word again _. . . would cause the same rush that he felt earlier.

Despite the minimal amount of light that filled the room, Raven made out BeastBoy's gorgeous green gaze . . . _Okay where the heck did that come from? _. . . This caused a small feeling of exhilaration to fill her up. Despite this, she could still feel a wave of uncertainty coursing through the green-skinned boy.

Deciding that he had been silent for long enough, BeastBoy finally decided to open his mouth and emit some speech, "Uhhhh . . ." was the only sound that stumbled out of his mouth. Eventually, he ended up rubbing the back of his head and chuckled nervously, realising that he was making a complete fool of himself.

Raven would never admit it, but she found the changeling's sudden spell of nervousness conjoint with insecurity kind of funny . . . and sweet . . . and cute. Despite BeastBoy's moment of minor hilarity, she was getting kind of nervous herself about what he was – or was not – about to say.

"Ummm . . . just thought that . . . I'd . . . just check . . . to see how you were" BeastBoy inevitably stumbled through the sentence "I'm mean, you know, after seeing Caspar's burning like that, I didn't know whether . . ."

"I'm fine BeastBoy" Raven stopped the changeling's babbling abruptly. She was crestfallen with his rhetoric. She could tell that there was a tug-of-war match ensuing his in mind – his jumbled emotions caused her to feel slightly weary; maybe it was early signs of sleep deprivation, but she was certain it was the first option – he wanted to ask her something else, but he was to jittery to even bother.

_Maybe I got my hopes up for no reason, _despondency drenched itself over Raven's entity, _and maybe there is no hope of reviving our friendship._ If her heart was made out of steel, Raven swore that a chink would have been created with this melancholy that she was feeling right now.

"Well" Raven broke the awkward silence between the two of them "If that's all, I really need to meditate for a while; I'm not feeling to great".

Though BeastBoy could not see the hurt – _yes, hurt – _on Raven's face, he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was upset.

_Great work Gar,_ the green-skinned changeling mentally slapped himself, _here you had your chance to truly make amends with Raven, to find out the truth about why she did what she did to you . . . perhaps find out how you really feel about her._

Knowing that Raven would not budge on her decision – no matter how much hassling he did – BeastBoy dropped his head in defeat and skulked past Raven; noticing that the luscious blend of lavender, jasmine and vanilla had been ousted by . . . well, whatever it was, he did not like it.

Situated back on the same spot where he was last time, BeastBoy perched himself on the edge of the Tower's; his eyes mesmerized by the dozens and dozens of stars, slowly being swallowed by the dawn.

After he left Raven's room – to which he could tell that Robin had been eavesdropping; the pungency of hair gel (too much of it in fact) gave it away – he came up to the roof where he _had_ to clear his head.

He could not stop mental berating himself for the mess he made.

In hindsight, he just wished that he had made light conversation with Raven, been a little jovial with her, told her a joke . . . anything than babble incoherently to her.

No more than an hour ago, his purple-haired teammate was cradled in his arms – crying no less – and revelled in that moment; even reflecting on this incident sent warm waves through his body. When he made eye to eye contact with her, feelings that he held deep for her emerged and he felt like he was floating, like his felt empty but full at the same time, like he was in heaven.

"_. . . __why did you do all those things to begin with?"_

'_I . . . honestly don't know BeastBoy. I wasn't in a good place at the time BeastBoy. I wasn't thinking correctly and I took it out on you'_

These words rung hauntingly throughout his mind. If he had that moment again, he would have pressed Raven further about her reply; what the hell did a reply like that mean anyway? But what did he do instead? He accepted her apology . . . correction: he _half-heartedly_ accepted her apology.

No matter the surge he felt during the eye contact, he still felt the doubt of his relationship with Raven lingering over him. Was the magnitude of what happened during the trouble in Tokyo enough to push him away from Raven? Was it best just to let sleeping dogs lie? Or was the past just too hard to let go?

"Thought I'd find you up here BB" the voice behind him snapped him out of his daze.

Cyborg began walking over to the changeling, eventually sitting next to the green skinned teen.

"Hey Cy, where've you been?" BeastBoy turned his head to see the mechanical man approaching; metal feet crunching on the tarmac.

Lowering himself next to the green teen, Cyborg responded "Well, Starfire decided to wake me up whilst I recharged my battery" he raised his right arm to show BeastBoy that he was only eight-four per cent charged "and she had something interesting to tell me . . . about you and Raven"

BeastBoy's ears perked up when Cyborg announced that he had been told something interesting . . . then faltered when it was about him and Raven.

"Oh" was the green teen's response. His saddened eyes drifting to the horizon as Cyborg's cold hand rested on his back.

"What's the matter vegetable? It's good that you and Raven are making up. Why the glum look?"

Rubbing both hands across his face harshly, BeastBoy turned to look his robotic comrade in his baffled eyes and replied "Dude . . . you don't even know half of what's happened".

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos . . . Azarath Metrion Zinthos . . . Azarath Metrion Zinthos . . ." over and over again, Raven repeated her meditation mantra. As she suspended herself above her bed, too many thoughts ran though her head . . . the thoughts of a specific green skinned teen.

She had known him for roughly three and a half years. In this time space, she had him down as a hyperactive, immature, inattentive little jokester who annoyed the ever living shit out of her. Yes, she felt that within that space of time, she had BeastBoy down to a tee.

Despite her being confident in these findings, after the events that occurred earlier on the roof of the tower, in conjunction with what just occurred in her bedroom not five minutes ago, she no longer knew who he was anymore.

Well, this is what she knew about him at this moment in time. She knew that he _could_ be annoying, he _could _be irritating, he _could_ be obnoxious . . . but he was _the_ person who sent waves of electricity through her body an hour ago, he was _the_ person that when she looked into those eyes . . . _those incredible green eyes . . . c'mon Raven, now's not the time . . . _everything she disliked about the changeling melted away and she was left with a feeling that she was not familiar with, something that was indescribable. He was _the _person who . . . left her feeling incredibly sad as he babbled his dialogue and left just as unhappy as he left her.

_He is a complete mystery to me. How could he accept my apology and still feel doubt about it? Does he really mean those words on the roof? He said that I was 'amazing' . . . was that just a lie? Does he really like me? Is he . . ._

". . . Raven? Raven? It is Starfire here. Please may I enter your room?" the familiar Tamaranian's voice silently echoed in Raven's mind. Slightly annoyed that Starfire had interrupted her meditation – then again, her incessant mental battle about her and BeastBoy was not helping her during her relaxation exercise – Raven lowered herself until her feet touched the floor, and turned to see Starfire peering through the crack in her door.

_Damn. I should learn to shut that damn door when people leave._ Raven finished mentally slapping herself and beckoned Starfire into her room. She was instantly surprised as the Tamaranian zoomed over to her and gripped her in a bone crushing embrace.

Cheerfully unaware of her friend's uncomfortable disposition, Starfire bellowed with delight, "Oh Raven, I'm so delighted that you and friend BeastBoy have done the reconciliation and now you . . ."

"Starfire . . . what . . . are . . . you . . . talking . . . about?" despite her lungs being pressed by what felt like the force of ten ton tank, Raven managed to gasp enough for Starfire to hear her.

Loosening her grip, Starfire looked into the empath's face – not paying any attention to the discomfort she was feeling as a result of her hug – with perplexity scribbled over her features.

"Raven, BeastBoy came into your room and surely you . . ." Starfire stopped mid-sentence and gazed upon the solemn expression on her friends face. She started to speculate that maybe she had got her hopes up to early.

"But Raven, surely by now you and BeastBoy have . . ."

Signalling for Starfire to stop talking, Raven exhaled deeply . . . _This is going to take a lot of explaining._

". . . overall, I made an idiot of myself and I don't know if me and Raven are on even ground"

Cyborg listened to BeastBoy's story as he watched the sun slowly appear from the horizon. Exhaling, he shook his head. Whatever hopes he had built up for the empath and the changeling ending their spat had swiftly been destroyed.

"But . . . what the hell does she mean Cy? She said that she 'wasn't in a good place at the time' . . . what the hell dude?" BeastBoy's face scrunched in upmost confusion, his eyes stared out towards the city – the trail of smoke from Caspar Confectionary was long gone – and spoke again, "You don't think I'm being irrational in any way? That I'm being childish?"

"No man" Cyborg turned to his best friend "but you know Raven. She's not . . well . . . Raven ain't . . . ya know . . ."

"Normal?" BeastBoy helped Cyborg finish his dialogue, realising that he did not feel comfortable in finishing the sentence . . . _Probably thought I'd be annoyed with him for suggesting such a thing . . . what's that word again? Ironic. _The changeling chuckled to himself.

"Uh . . . I was gonna say 'not like other girls'" Cyborg sheepishly replied, "Look, does the fact that you and Raven are now speaking to each other tell ya that all's good between you two?"

"I understand what you're saying Cy and in a way, you've got a point" BeastBoy returned his gaze to the city "so why did I doubt her apology? Why do I doubt whether she was being genuine? Why did I doubt . . . her?"

Cyborg did not have to be a supercomputer with legs to see that the green bean was crestfallen. He knew that a long while back, BeastBoy held strong 'feelings' for Raven – Cyborg could not understand to the life of him why, but he accepted this fact – and after the pair 'fell out' (to put it mildly) BeastBoy cast those feelings aside; Cyborg never saw such a sorrier sight in his life.

Contemplating the best piece of advice he could, Cyborg knew that there was only one person that BeastBoy should be speaking to. He knew that that person was more than definitely not going to like what the green skinned teen had to say, but she was the only person who would give him straight answers. The one who could finally put his mind at ease; give him the answers he needed.

Before he could offer his advice, the beeping of Cyborg's and BeastBoy's communicators began their repetitious tones.

". . . and so, based on his emotions, I'm starting to think that BeastBoy doubts that my words had any meaning at all".

Starfire was hooked onto every single word that her empathetic friend uttered. Moments ago, she had entered Raven's room with boundless amounts of joy at the prospect that she and BeastBoy had reconciled. Now after hearing everything that Raven had told her, that joy had quickly evaporated.

Raven continued, "At the time, I was thrilled that BeastBoy forgave me after what I did to him. So thrilled that I didn't take any notice of the doubt I heard in his voice" Raven walked over to her bed and sat, burying her face into her hands "I just don't know what to do Starfire".

Taking the initiative, Starfire walked over to Raven's bed and sat down next to her. Putting her arm around her, Starfire asked "Raven, how do _you_ feel about friend BeastBoy?"

Looking at the Tamaranian with confusion, Raven responded "How do _I_ feel about BeastBoy?"

Starfire nodded her head in confirmation "Yes. Do you understand why BeastBoy feels the doubt? Why he feels the uncertainty?"

Of course Raven knew. When he asked her why she kept striking him and belittling him in Tokyo, she said that she had no idea. What kind of an answer was that? Why the hell was she thinking of? Why did she not tell BeastBoy the truth? That she . . .

_No!_ Raven stopped herself in mid-flow, _I can't feel that way for BeastBoy, I just can't. After what's happened, there's no way on earth that he could ever reciprocate those feelings._

"Friend Raven?" She was jolted from her thoughts, "Do you?"

Understanding Starfire's question, Raven responded despondently "I do understand why he feels doubt . . . and I do know how I feel about him"

"Then why do you do the telling of you feelings?"

Raven shut her eyes and responded despairingly "Because . . . I'm . . . I'm afraid"

Starfire stared at her friend in bemusement. _Friend Raven is afraid? But she's never afraid. Why? How can she be afraid of talking to friend BeastBoy and telling him how she feels about him? _

"But Raven, how can you be afraid of telling BeastBoy how you feel? Surely he would be delighted to know."

Meeting with Starfire's emerald eyes, Raven replied "I'm afraid that . . . that he won't feel the same about me" she returned her eyes to the floor "and that I've ruined our friendship"

Wrapping her other arm Raven, embracing her in a gentle hug, Starfire felt Raven's anguish. She knew for a while now that Raven had harboured feelings for the changeling, but she also knew that Raven had difficulty in containing her feelings without her powers reacting. Starfire just wished that Raven would stop hiding behind her powers and just let everything out, before her and BeastBoy's friendship was doomed for good.

"Raven, you must . . ." Starfire was cutting off by the bleeping of the communicators she and Raven possessed.

Robin had told his team to come into the living room. After he decided to cease eavesdropping on BeastBoy and Raven, he thought he should return back to the living room and check on whether he would have better luck in finding the person responsible for destroying Caspar Confectionary. After being back at the computer for around fifteen/twenty minutes, the computer showed a white beacon with a green cross flashing; indicating that an incident had occurred that had required ambulance attention.

Lieutenant Steve Brauner may not have wanted the Titans at the sweet shop, but to hell if he thought he was going to stop them from investigating this incident.

The hissing doors opened and Raven and Starfire steeped into the room.

Robin's attention first turned to Starfire. He saw that she had a stoic look on her face. His heart sank slightly. In hindsight, he should have gone to find her after intercepting Raven and BeastBoy's little chat – which, by his own admittance, was not much of a chat – maybe he could have apologized for what he said to her . . . _But that'll have to wait for now. This mission comes first._

Next, he turned his head towards Raven. From what he gathered from her conversation with BeastBoy, the two of them, whilst they were at least now talking to each other, were still on shaky ground with one another. He knew that he would have to talk to the pair of them separately.

_I don't care what their issues are, they have to co-operate with each other . . . for the benefit of this mission._

Shortly after the girls entered the living room, BeastBoy and Cyborg showed up.

_Time: 5:49:56 a.m._

Leaning against the cold metal railings, _she_ stared at the building with such an attentive gaze. Standing high and might, illuminated from top to bottom, the building was the residence to the 'Fearless Five', the hope and glory of all of Jump City, the pride of the city . . . The Titans. A devilish grin lit up her face as the five figures of the Tower began to disperse. Her eyes were glued to the superheroes as they flew over head.

The vibration of her mobile phone brought her out of her sight seeing. Taking her phone from her back pocket, she flipped it open and read the instructions on the screen. Now that she had her new set of instructions, she returned the phone back to its rightful place and began walking towards her next destination.

After _he_ had sent the SMS message, he threw the phone back on the table and leaned back in his chair; his eyes observing the dozens upon dozens of television screens that lay before him.

Meticulously and fastidiously, he had spent the last few months in placing cameras around specific parts of the city; in particular, the areas in which he had intention of targeting and the people who were part of his plan. Whenever the next incident was going to take place, he would relax and observe; grinning in satisfaction whenever the incident was successful.

Whilst he saw Caspar Confectionary ignite from the laboratories, he watched _her_ end the old woman's life via the camera set up in the woman's house . . . and she ended it perfectly.

Turning his attention to the array of photographs that lay on the table, he picked up the one of the now dead woman. The smiling face of seventy-four year old Iona Islington beamed back at him; _his _response . . . tearing the photo in two, scrunching it up and throwing it in a nearby waste-paper bin.

In his mind, he ticked off the three that had already come a cropper . . . _Derek Stimpson, Richie Caspar and now . . . Iona Islington._

All three of these people played a huge role in the lead up to the 'big plan'. The plan that would revolutionize the city . . . perhaps the entire country . . . maybe the whole world, who knew.

His eyes kept darting back to one camera in particular; the one which was focused on the entrance to his hideout. For months now, he had been hiding in this specific location where he was certain that no one, not even the Titans, could find him. The ironic thing was that they had been to this location on countless occasions, been literally meters away from him . . . but they had never discovered him. Maybe they would find out where his was, maybe they would not, but one thing was for sure . . . even if they did find him, they would not be able to stop what was going to happen.

Gaining more comfort in his chair, he relaxed himself and began to drift into slumber.

**END OF CHAPTER SIX**

_And that is that . . ._

_You know the usual drill; a review is always greatly appreciated. Comment back; whether you loved it or hated . . ._

_Just to let you guys know, I'll be going to Ireland at the end of this month, so the next chapter will probably be going out in early December._

_Also, I have something else planned for December. Since my birthday is on the 4__th__, I've decided that I'm going to treat all my followers . . . in particular, those who have stuck with this current story right at the start (you know who you are)._

_In the meantime, I think it's about time I make some reading recommendations; some of my personal favourites . . ._

_The Gift by TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne . . . started very recently, this is a BB/Rae romantic piece with a bucket load of drama and suspense with every passing chapter. This already seems to be a promising piece of prose; so if you're the kind of person who has be itching to read a decent story, I recommend that you give this one a gander._

_Birthday Reflections by BlueTitan . . . as BeastBoy celebrates his birthday, he wants a particular gift on this day. Either: Raven to play a video with him, Raven to try some of his tofu or Raven to give BeastBoy a . . . kiss? With an unexpected trip in Raven's mind (again), how will this alter their relationship? And will Raven give BeastBoy a kiss after the days events have ended?_

_Summer Watermelon by WysteriaFox . . . BeastBoy and Raven, a day out on the town and piece of watermelon . . . what could possibly occur from this? Well, in this one-shot, expect some romantic elements, as well as some well written comedic value, it is guaranteed that you will love this piece._

_Another three will come in the next chapter. In the meantime, have a great week. _

_Until next time . . ._


	8. Chapter 7: Home Invasion

_I know I said that the next chapter would come after I return from Ireland, but I could not wait until then. _

_Just seven pages published and you guys have broken the 1,800+ hits barrier. Thank you for reading and to those who have remained loyal from the beginning._

_So, without further ado, here's (earlier than planned) the next chapter._

_I do not own the following:_

_Teen Titans_

_Just To See Her by Smokey Robinson_

_Son of a Preacher Man by Aretha Franklin_

**CHAPTER SEVEN – Home Invasion**

_Time: 6:00:21 a.m._

Saira Thurman thumbed her way through the morning newspaper. Every page pretty much telling the same stories as yesterday: stock markets suffering, some C-list celebrity had been pulled by the police for some speeding violation, the population of a small town somewhere in South America in turmoil after an active volcano wiped out their entire habitat, the weather for this upcoming weekend looking shittier than ever . . . pretty much doom and gloom with every page she turned.

Due to the newspaper depressing her too much, she closed the paper, tossed it to one side and finished the last of her breakfast; muesli covered with Greek yoghurt. After she finished the last morsel of food, she disposed of the bowl in the sink and decided to have a shower.

Before she reached the bottom of the stairs, there came a knocking on her door. Spinning around to stare at the glass framed fortress, she saw the outline of a figure standing there.

"Hello?" Saira called. It was extremely sporadic for anyone to be at her door this early in the morning. "Hello, who is it?" she called again and once more, the figure did not respond.

Giving up on waiting for the figure to answer, Saira walked over to the door and opened it . . . only to be greeted by a young, fresh faced woman with dark auburn hair . . . with a crowbar raised above her head?

Within a matter of seconds, _she_ penetrated Saira's head with the hook end of the crowbar; the crunch of her skull and the blood that oozed from her head sent wave after wave of adrenaline through her body. She released the crowbar and watched as Saira collapsed to the laminate floorboards.

Stepping over the body, _she_ made her way from the doorway to the kitchen; neglecting to shut the front door on her way in. She began rummaging through the numerous amounts of cupboards and drawers for something that would bring the authorities sniffing around this house.

After roughly two minutes of searching, she found two things that were to guarantee the pigs diverting their attention to this residence: a candle and a matchbook.

Placing the thick, white candle on the wooden round-table in the centre of the kitchen, she ripped off one of the matches from the matchbook, struck it against the rough surface and lit the wick. She blew out the match and carelessly chucked on the floor. Staring at the matchbook that she held, she chose to pocket it . . . _You never know, they might come in handy later on._

Magnetically, her eyes were drawn away from the flaming stick of wax and were drawn to something else . . . the gas oven.

Grinning malevolently, she strode over to the oven and delicately brushed her fingers across the hob. Twisting all four ignition buttons, the essence of gas infiltrated her nostrils. The barely invisible waves of the gas began rising, soon this whole building would become a towering, burning wreck; probably not as spectacular as Caspar Confectionary, but just as beautiful.

Glancing at the clock that hung above the archway leading out of the kitchen, she recognised that it would be only a matter of time before she received her next set of instructions.

She walked out of the kitchen, again, stepped over Saira's breathless body, ripped the crowbar from her head, stepped back outside and closed the door behind her.

Robin, Starfire, Raven, Cyborg and BeastBoy had blue lights flashing in their eyes. All five of them bore witness to the sight of two paramedics wheeling out of the detached building . . . a black body bag. The knowledge of what had occurred hit all five of them like a two-hundred mile-per-hour train; a nauseous sensation filled their stomachs.

As all five heroes landed, the paramedics introduced themselves.

The male who announced that his name was Leo Mitchell, looked as though he was in his early twenties, black haired styled as a French crop with a lengthy fringe, hazel eyes and pretty scrawny looking.

His colleague was on the other end of the spectrum.

The woman who introduced herself as Melissa Pritchard was in her mid-thirties/early forties, butch, short cut spiky blonde hair the was obviously dyed to look brighter, penetrating blue eyes and a demeanour that – even Robin would admit – looked intimidating.

Taking the initiative, Robin asked the paramedics what had happened.

Leo responded, "We received a phone call roughly around five o'clock. The operator informed us that it was from a female who sounded particularly distressed"

"After Kimberley (the operator) asked her what the problem was" Melissa interjected and finished off the rest of the description "she was just told to bring help to this address".

The five pairs of eyes that belonged to the superheroes were drawn to the lifeless body that was contained in the black bag; collective shivers shot through their spines.

As Leo and Melissa wheeled the trolley onto into the ambulance, Robin broke the silence "What happened to her?"

Slamming the doors shut, the paramedics turned their heads and Melissa answered his question "From the looks of things, the poor dear was walking down the stairs, lost her footing and just came crashing.

"She had enough life left in her to phone for help, but . . ." her eyes trailed off to the ground and she exasperated a defeated sigh.

"When we arrived, we found the door slightly ajar, walked in and found the poor woman laying at the bottom of the stairs . . . by then, she was already gone" Melissa concluded her colleagues dialogue, a solemn look crept on her face.

"Hey" Leo piped up "aren't you five supposed to be over at Caspar's?"

All five heroes made despondent eye contact with one another before BeastBoy commented "Well we would be, but some jack-off Lieutenant gave us the elbow; saying that we weren't needed"

Leo and Melissa stared in disbelief at one another, "You weren't needed at a scene of a crime?" Leo asked; confusion was abundantly apparent in his speech.

"Got it in one" the changeling responded; his body language suited the tone of his voice; dejection, annoyance and dissatisfaction.

Making eye contact with each other again, Leo and Melissa shook there heads in incredulity, then turned to leave the premises.

Shifting his vision from the ambulance to his teammates, Robin beckoned his team to gather around him and then dropped his voice low enough so that the paramedics would not eavesdrop but loud enough so that his team would hear.

"Okay team, I think it's about time we dug our noses deeper into this" Robin saw three faces gripped onto his speech, the forth scratched their head in confusion . . . three guesses of who that was.

"So you wish for us to stick our nasal passages into the ground?" the voice of the Tamaranian made Robin – as well as the rest of teammates – focus their attention onto her – unbeknown to the superheroes, Leo and Melissa heard clearly what Starfire had said, and they too ended up scratching their heads.

Robin could still tell through the tone of her dialogue that she was still pissed about being spoken to in a distasteful fashion back at the tower. Despite this, a tinge of annoyance struck his brain, it was not the Tamaranian's fault that (despite being on Earth for at least four years) her dialogue had yet to match that of a human, but the inaccuracy of her dialogue, for some reason, grated on his nerves at that moment in time.

"No . . . Star . . ." Robin began bluntly – he very rarely called Starfire by a nickname and this drew a few eyebrows from his comrades – "What I mean is, is that it's about time that we started getting involved with what's going on.

"For some reason, I have a feeling that what happened in that house wasn't accident"

Robin received an incredulous look from Cyborg as he spoke "What are ya talking about Rob, ya saying that you don't accept that some old girl fell down the stairs and died?"

This time, BeastBoy replied "Dudes, I think Robin's right" four pairs of eyes were now focused on the changeling "something just doesn't smell right. And my _nose . . . knows_ when something isn't right" he chuckled at his own little word play, to which none of his teammates responded to in the same fashion.

"BeastBoy, now's not the time for any of your stupid joking around" Robin's stern voice sharply ceased BeastBoy's giggling "Understand?"

_Jesus, lighten up you uptight twerp_, was interpreted as an obedient nod from the changeling . . . but oh what he would give just to say that right now.

"Good . . . okay" Robin straightened his frame and began laying out instructions "I'll stay here see if I can find anything useful in the house. BeastBoy, you stay with me, okay?"

The changeling nodded in reply.

"Raven, Star, I want one of you take Cyborg back to the tower. Cyborg" Robin turned his attention to the metal man, "Take the T-Car and go to the" Robin spun his head to peer at the ambulance (which was now speeding away, blue lights blaring and flashing in the rising dawn) "Jump City General Hospital, see if you can get into the pathologists and gather up anything that could be useful"

Cyborg was still unconvinced by the traffic light on legs' crazy claim that this was more than just an accident, but he accepted the job anyway.

Turning his attention back on the two girls, he concluded he mission objectives "Once you two have dropped off Cyborg, go back to Caspar's. The fire fighters have got to be finished by now, so maybe the Lieutenant will let you in on what they've found, okay?"

Raven affirmed the command, Starfire harrumphed . . . Robin took that as a 'yes'.

"Right then, any problems, contact me on the communicator. Titans . . . lets go"

Once Raven, Starfire and Cyborg had left the scene, Robin and BeastBoy entered the dead woman's house and began their search.

Robin could not explain why the description given by the paramedics did not settle well with him; call it a sixth sense. It seemed as though Cyborg was willing to except everything at face vale – as well as Raven and Starfire for that fact – but Robin did want to accept it; he was thankful that BeastBoy was on the same wavelength as the Boy Wonder.

If he was honest, Robin chose BeastBoy to stay for two reasons: because his heightened animal senses would come in handy at the house and it would give Robin ample opportunity in pestering the changeling about his situation with Raven. Robin knew he could not have any personal matters interfering on this mission, so he would need to iron out any creases and do it pretty quickly.

Having already morphed into a bloodhound, BeastBoy begun on the ground floor and begun sniffing around for anything that smelled untoward or out of place. It was not long before he made his way into the kitchen and, like a magnet to steel, he was drawn to the far end of the kitchen, where a window was left wide open.

Robin picked up on this and followed the green sleuth hound to where he had stopped.

"Great job BeastBoy" Robin patted the dog on the head "go see if you can find anything else"

As the changeling left the kitchen and followed a specific trail that led upstairs, Robin examined the window where BeastBoy had stopped. He carefully scanned his eyes along the wooden framework and nothing stood out to begin with. It was not until he used his glove fingers – brushing them against every inch of the wood – that he noticed some scuffed, splintered wood.

He leaned over until his head peaked out of the window. His masked eyes saw that something had been dug into the wood, something relatively sharp, and had been forced upwards.

It did not take a genius to know that someone had forced this window open; using a crowbar would have done the job perfectly.

"Hey Robin dude, come up here for a second" Robin was snapped out of thoughts by the now-deep tones of BeastBoy's vocals.

Leaving the kitchen, Robin trekked up the wooden staircase where the changeling stood.

"What is it BeastBoy?" Robin stared at the green boy inquisitively.

"Someone other than that old woman was in this house" BeastBoy replied.

"You certain?"

"Sure dude" BeastBoy knelt on the floor and pointed to a specific part of the floor "on this piece of the floor, it has a rubbery scent to it – probably from a slipper"

"Makes sense. There was a slipper laying at the bottom of the staircase when we came in"

"Right" BeastBoy then point to a different part of the floor "but over here, it smells more . . . earthy"

"Earthy?"

"Yeah, like whoever was standing here had stepped in some dirt before they came in the house"

"Well, there is a grassy patch just outside the kitchen window, so that would explain that . . . and they broke in by the way" the Boy Wonder corrected the green skinned boy.

"Huh?"

"Broke in. Whoever was standing there _broke in_. I examined the kitchen window and saw that the wood frame was severely scuffed. I'm guessing that someone came in through that window using a crowbar."

"Damn dude" a satisfied grin spread across the changeling's face "looks like our inklings were correct"

"Don't celebrate just yet BeastBoy, wait until we've found who broke in, then you can celebrate"

BeastBoy's ears dropped in annoyance more than disappointment, _For Christ sakes, one piece of good work has been done and he won't acknowledge that good work. Does this guy ever lighten up?_

Turning his eyes back down the staircase, something began to play on Batman's ex-protégé's mind.

"BeastBoy, didn't the paramedics say that the woman who died phoned for help?"

Not knowing where Robin was going, BeastBoy replied "Uh, yeah dude, why?"

"And that she was at the bottom of the stairs when they found her?"

"Yeah"

Walking until he got to the bottom of the stairs, Robin looked back up the staircase and called, "Well then, where's the phone?"

"Huh?" was the green teen's response.

"Well if she phoned for help, then she would have obviously used a phone, right?"

"Right?"

"Well then, why is there no phone on the floor? I looked around the living room earlier and there's no phone in here. There's no phone in the kitchen. So . . . where is the phone?"

It finally clicked in the changeling's mind where Robin was heading.

"Also, the paramedics said that _she_ told them to come to the house"

BeastBoy was stumped by this statement. If there was no phone downstairs, how the hell did she call for help?

"This means that someone else called for help, that person then gave the old woman the opportunity to plead for assistance . . ."

All the pieces were finally falling into place in BeastBoy's mind.

"And _that_ someone was female" BeastBoy ended Robin's statement.

Robin eyed the green skinned teen in bafflement.

Answering the confusion the traffic-light on legs was clearly showing, BeastBoy said, sniffing at the same time, "Smell that . . . that smells like old people and Chanel Number 5; I doubt very highly that an old woman would wear that sort of perfume."

The light bulb was fully bright in Robin's mind. He was astounded by BeastBoy's quick deduction . . . he certainly underestimated have efficient BeastBoy could actually be in a situation like this.

"Speaking of female, what's going on between you and Raven?"

BeastBoy instantly snapped in his eyes in surprise; his body tensed to the question. This was certainly something that he did not expect Robin to come out with considering the current circumstances.

"The pair of you entered the living room . . . together. Then she laughed at you outburst about the Lieutenant. D'ya think I wouldn't notice?"

Exhaling softly, BeastBoy relaxed his muscles and coolly replied, "How much did you overhear back at the tower?" BeastBoy saw the Boy Wonder try and fake a perplexed look "C'mon dude, I know you were outside Raven's door so don't try and deny it"

Knowing that there was no point in playing dumb, Robin dropped the act and replied "All I heard was you babbling on about whether Raven was alright after what happened back at Caspar's . . . and that she was told you to leave her room after you stumbled through, what I imagined was _not_ the reason you went in there in the first place."

BeastBoy's eyes gazed depressingly to the wooden floor beneath his feet. He did not expect to have to speak about such a personal matter at this point in time . . . let alone to his team leader.

"BeastBoy, what exactly has happened between the pair of you? One moment you're ignoring each others existence, now, you're talking to one another . . . and as your leader, I think I should know . . . I don't want any friction between the pair of you interrupting the team dynamics."

Once Raven and Starfire dropped Cyborg off at the tower, they left their friend and went on their way to Caspar's.

As the pair of them continued the airborne travel to the sweet shop, Raven's mind kept playing back to a few minutes ago, and Starfire's rather flippant attitude towards Robin.

_Talk about me having troubles with BeastBoy_, a shrill of uncertainty, once again, swept over her at the thought of the green teen, _I can only imagine what's happened between them two._

"So what's happened between you and Robin, Starfire?" Raven's dialogue caught the Tamaranian slightly off guard. Usually Raven never made small talk during flight, so this was very unusual by the empath's standards.

"Friend Raven, I do not wish to speak of the matter right now. All I will say is that boyfriend Robin has been the impertinent and has ungentle-manlike to me recently."

Raven felt the hurt emanating off of her red headed comrade; in her words, in her body language and in her facial expressions.

Feeling obliged to help her friend, and because she had tried to help her moments ago, Raven asked, "Starfire, if Robin has upset you, tell me and I'll deal with him when I next see him"

Remembering what happened back at the tower, Starfire's spirit was swarming with despondency. Reciting everything that happened to Raven, word by word, incident by incident, tear by tear, Raven felt Starfire's disappointment.

Raven knew that Robin could be as much bone-headed as he could be bighearted; she thought that Starfire would know this, they were a couple for God's sake, but this particular incident really rattled the Tamaranian.

"Starfire, you know better than anyone how Robin gets whenever his head is stuck into a mission; especially something of this kind of magnitude. Don't let _that_ Robin get to you" Raven intuitively knew that Starfire already understood this, but she felt that it was worth reiterating.

"I know Raven" Raven swore she saw a tear fall down Starfire's face as she spoke, "but it does not make it any easier."

Sighing loudly, Raven asked Starfire to stop flying for a moment and return to the ground so that they could conclude this conversation; despite Starfire's protests that they should be making their way to Caspar's.

Raven chose to settle in a small rural area of the city. The two females planted their feet firmly on the ground. Neither Raven, nor Starfire could ever remember making an appearance in this part of town, but by their own admittance, it was quite a quaint, appeasing and beautiful looking area.

Turing to face her friends puffy looking face, Raven said "Listen Starfire, we both know how Robin gets when he's in this mood. I understand if you're hurt by his words, or how he said them to you, but you need to forget about it."

Detracting her attention from the purple orbs that belonged to her 'sister' to the concrete ground, Starfire suspired and began, "You are right about Robin. He can be, the head of the pig when he is crime-fighting . . . I just wish that he was not so cruel whenever he is in that mind of state".

Resting a hand on her shoulder, Raven responded, "I know Starfire, but just . . ."

The empath abruptly ended her dialogue. Something did not feel right; something did not . . . smell right?

Through a series of sniffs, Raven asked, "Starfire, can you smell gas?"

"Gas?" Starfire stared in confusion before turning her nose up to the airwaves. After sniffing for a few seconds, Starfire agreed . . . there was a gassy smell coming from somewhere.

**- BOOOOOOM -**

The explosion caught the heroines off guard; not only because they did not know where the gas was coming from and because the explosion came from behind them.

Raven did not know how much time had passed, but when she woke up, she saw that there was a hoard of people running out of their houses, pedestrians crowding around Raven's body and detached house was engulfed in fire. As she tried to move, she winced, her head was thumping like crazy and her left elbow cried in discomfort. Twisting her arm, she saws that the left arm of her leotard had been slightly ripped and that her elbow was grazed, bruised and bloodied; not gushing with blood but there were a few scrapes and scathes here and there that were tinted with blood.

A chorus of pleas, questions and cries bellowing from all different directions, 'How are you dear?', 'Are you hurt?', 'Are you okay?', 'Somebody call an ambulance', 'Someone call the police', 'Someone call a fire engine', 'What the fuck happened?', 'Did anyone see what happened?' 'Get these girls some help!', 'What the hell . . ."

_Get these girls some help? . . . Starfire!_

Raven squirmed in the grasps of the pedestrians and despite their protests for her to stay and not move, she made it to her feet; thankfully her legs were still fully functioning, unharmed, and saw a group of people in their nightwear, some in public attire, crowding to a certain part of the street.

Raven could not see what was going on, but inevitably, she pushed past the public and made her way over to the crowd.

Calling out to the people, she said "Excuse me, please move. Pardon me" until she saw why they were crowding around.

Her eyes quadrupled in size, her body shook, her mind froze, her heart stuttered to a stop at the reason those people were crowding.

"STARFIRE!"

Cyborg had been on the road now for a while now. The journey from the tower to Jump City General Hospital was roughly a fifty-five mile journey. However, since there would be virtually no traffic on the roads at this time in the morning, it would take at least a total of thirty to forty minutes until he reached his destination.

With the window down, a cool breeze washed across his face, the early remnants of the morning sun danced on the bonnet of the T-Car, Smokey Robinson's smooth-like-velvet, soothing, soulful voice waltzing through the radio waves.

_Just to see her, just to touch her_

_Just to hold her in my arms again one more time_

_If I could feel her warm embrace, see her smiling face_

_Can't find anyone to take her place, I've got to see her again_

As the lyrics travelled from the radio to Cyborg's ears, he stared over to the empty passenger seat, shortly drawing his eyes to the rear view mirror and staring at the bare seats behind him. All of the sudden, a wave of loneliness swept over him; his thoughts ended up going back to his four colleagues.

The images of the Boy Wonder and the Tamaranian princess popped into his head. Their intimate relationship had been solid for roughly eight months, yet it had plenty of years for those foundations to be laid solidly. Cyborg had never seen those two so happy ever since he first met them.

Despite there being some sort of friction between the two of them after Robin laid down a strategy back at the dead woman's house – some whatever reason, Cyborg had no clue – he knew that whatever it was, it would be swiftly swept underneath the rug and those two would be all clingy once again.

His thoughts then turned to the green skinned teen and the purple haired empath. Their friendship had perhaps been the most unstable and strained out of everyone else, but for some reason – beyond Cyborg's own comprehension – the two of them, when on good ground, gelled perfectly.

From BeastBoy's description, what seemed to be a gargantuan leap in patching up the pieces of their friendship seemed close to disintegrating once again. But Cyborg believed that deep down, those two would find it in themselves to drop the past and move in; maybe become closer.

That was all well and good . . . but where did that leave Cyborg? If Robin and Starfire were together, and if BeastBoy and Raven potentially became an item, who was there for Cyborg?

Ever since his second life, the life as a cybernetic being, he initially struggled to accept himself for who he was. He went from a young, upcoming and dynamic athlete, touted by professionals all across the country to be the 'next big thing', someone who was popular whenever he went and girls would literally gaze at him, eyes fawning, mouths agape, drooling pools of saliva at their feet . . . to, effectively, a toaster, a tin opener, a battery on legs.

Then again, Cyborg resigned to the truth, who could ever love someone like him? The answer was blatantly obvious in Cyborg's eyes . . . his only human eye to be exact.

Smokey Robinson's manly vocal chords changed to the womanly bellows of Aretha Franklin.

_Billy-Ray was a Preacher's son,  
And when his da__ddy would visit he'd come along . . ._

BeastBoy raised an eyebrow in slight irritation at Robin's closing statement. He knew of a word that perfectly described everything that Robin had just said . . . _Hypocritical._

You did not need to be a genius to see that there was 'friction' – as his, quote unquote, wondrous team leader – between the Boy Blunder and Starfire. In fact, BeastBoy felt slightly insulted that Robin would insinuate that his current situation with Raven would 'interrupt the team dynamics'. They certainly had done no such thing for a good part of the year, so why did Robin choose to bring this up now?

Deciding to take a chirpy approach, BeastBoy jokingly replied, "Robin, I don't think I need to worry about any problems I have with Raven when you've got issues with Starfire . . ." the changeling placed a hand on his leaders shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, ". . . what happened, she put out and you didn't bite the hand that feeds ya?"

Robin's stern, unemotional facial features remained stoic and unflinching as he brushed off BeastBoy's silver gloved hand "Don't change the subject BeastBoy . . . now, answer my question."

Feigning shock, BeastBoy retorted, "Whoa there Rob, calm down. It's not like I'm not pointing out something that isn't already apparent. Besides, why is it such an issue with me asking the same question you asked?"

Again, Robin chose to avoid BeastBoy's query and decided to reinforce his position, "BeastBoy, quit being childish and answer the question. I'm the . . ."

"Yeah yeah yeah, you're the leader, you have the right to know, I have to answer all your questions, I'm under your thumb, blah blah blah . . ."

"Shut it BeastBoy" not only did Robin find it necessary to raise his voice, he got right up into the changeling's face; his breathe stung the Boy Wonder's nostrils "start acting mature, stop behaving like an child and tell me why . . ."

"You know what Robin" BeastBoy cut Robin off and decided to give himself some breathing space before he ended up putting him on the floor.

_Who the hell does he think he is?_ Anger rose in BeastBoy's stomach and bubbled whilst he concluded his dialogue, "How about you take your nose and keep it in your own personal matters, and stay out of mine, okay?"

Whether it was a trick of the light or not, Robin swore he saw something glimmer in the green teen's eyes, something unnerving. He was slightly perturbed by this, but did not allow this to show.

"Do you honestly believe that your attitude is helping this current situation? Two people have died in the last two hours and your anger, your attitude and your apparent problems Raven will not help in . . ."

That was it. BeastBoy hated Robin whenever he spoke to him like a kid. That was always the way with Robin. BeastBoy held his tongue for long enough, but he was not going to hold back now.

Closing the gap between the pair of them, BeastBoy said in a low, gruff voice, "You wanna talk about attitude, I'll give you . . ."

"Raven calling Robin, come in Robin" the chirping of the empath's voice on Robin's communicator ceased BeastBoy's dialogue. It was a good thing as well; the glower in BeastBoy's eyes unnerved Batman's ex-protégé even more than before. Unclipping the device from his belt, Robin stepped away and flipped it open.

"Robin here. What's the problem Raven?"

Running his gloved hands through his hair BeastBoy turned his back on his leader and paced away from him. He had to stop his ager from boiling over. Slowing his breathing patterns and continuously telling himself to calm down, BeastBoy managed to simmer his frustration, but remnants of his vexation still existed.

"WHAT!" Robin's voice echoed throughout the building, causing BeastBoy to jump out of his skin.

_Time: 6:58:05 a.m._

The steady pace that twenty-one year old Hannah Young made as she jogged through the park was good; if she kept this up, she would have completed her usual circuit in record time.

As she continued her exercise along the leaf strewn walkway, the sight of the multi-coloured flowers awakening from their slumber, the masses of green leaved trees, the sparkling sun peeping over the plant life dazzled her eyes.

So she received a slight surprise when she ended up colliding with someone; the force of the collision caused Hannah to take a tumble backwards and land on the dewy, cold concrete.

Rubbing her backside in slight discomfort, she looked at the other female jogger that she bumped into. Brushing aside her blonde locks, the young woman she crashed into, who could not have been any older than eighteen or nineteen years old, also had long, flowing blonde hair that travelled down to her back, her running attire . . . well, left nothing to the imaginations as Hannah would have so eloquently put it.

Hannah watched as the young woman rose to her feet and say "Oh, I'm so, so sorry for that, I didn't see you coming"

Hannah took the young woman's hand and rose to her feet. Smiling softly, Hannah replied "It's alright, seriously. I got blinded by the sun, I couldn't see ahead of me that well".

The young woman chuckled at Hannah's response.

"Okay, well . . . enjoy the remainder of your run" the young woman said. And with that she took off on her jog again.

"Okay, bye" Hannah called out. She was slightly winded by the collision but she could carry on. Her 'record time' had been disrupted by quite a considerable amount, but she was not going to beat herself up to much about it.

Resting her hand on her stomach, Hannah exhaled heavily.

_Boy, that was quite a bump I took. That really winded me. Strange, it wasn't that bad of a . . ._

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she took one look at her hand. To her horror, her hand was lathered in a red liquid. Staring down at her stomach, the horror intensified. Panic, shock and fright took over her as she saw that blood was literally pouring out of her stomach. Her eyes widened, her heart trashed, her body shook . . . she collapsed to her knees.

She was unaware that in the distance, the young woman she had bumped into had stopped running and turned back to see Hannah drop to the ground.

**END OF CHAPTER**

_Hope you lot liked._

_Again, I knew I said I was waiting until early December until the next release, but I completed this chapter days ago and thought that it would've been cruel to make you guys wait._

_I still plan on giving you lot that treat that I mentioned last chapter._

_Recommendations time:_

_Love Hurts by GlacierBlueRose . . . an old enemy from Robin's past forms a coalition with the Titans worst enemy. In return for a favour, this nemesis promises to destroy the Titans by any means necessary. As the enemy's plan goes into function, romantic relationships intensify, before they come under severe pressure; not just from their enemies, but from past acquaintances too. In the end, everyone will realise that no matter how cherished it can be, love . . . hurts._

_Of Cherries and Daring by Allecto . . . where can the harmless act of twisting cherry stems with your tongue lead? Well, when the two participants involved are Raven and BeastBoy, not even your wildest imagination could predict what will occur during the early hours of the morning and a bowl full of fruit. A romantic, as well as humorous piece of prose; well worth the time to read._

_Christmas Special: of Orphans and Christmas by amused4ever . . . with BeastBoy's frequent disappearances from the tower, Raven becomes suspicious of his actions, so one night, she decides to follow him. Her findings? Well . . . these findings will make her see BeastBoy in a completely different light . . ._

_. . . And it's nearing December so I thought I'd get you lot ready._

_Also, give the song . . . Tokyo (Vampires and Wolves) by The Wombats . . . and tell me that parts of the lyrics don't remember you of the TT movie . . . maybe it's just me._

_Again, read and review (even if you hated this and think it was a piece of sh*t). Any review is a good review._


	9. Chapter 8: Titan Trauma

**CHAPTER EIGHT – Titan Trauma**

"_For the record . . . I'm nobodies servant" the Face drew back the flaming axe and threw it as hard as he could possibly muster, right into the face of Trigon. Retribution and satisfaction was writhing through his entity at the sight of the towering behemoth staggering back into hell's molten; no matter if the damage done to Trigon _was_ superficial, just hurting the son of a bitch was glory in it of itself._

_Perching himself on a rock, he caught the Titans out of the corner of his eye – well, four out of the five, that Raven was somewhere else. Once Trigon had been taken care of, his five foes would be riddled with fatigue and then he would destroy every single one of them._

"_ENOUGH!" the brusque, guttural wail from the demonic being rang throughout the apocalyptic wasteland; the Face did not expect the sudden burst of red beams emitting from Trigon's red orbs._

_The force hit _him_ with such impact, it cause him to be thrown back a considerable distance before colliding into unforgiving concrete. _

_His head throbbed, his body ached, his breathing laboured._

_He was not certain how long he had been wavering in and out consciousness for – it seemed like hours, when in reality, it was only a matter of seconds – fuzzy speech patterns filled his ears; he could not make them out clearly. As the pain in his head began to lessen, he caught some dialogue; it was vague, yet audible._

"_. . . You survive, only because _I _allow it. What hope could a mere child have of defeating her OWN POWERFUL FATHER?"_

_Willing himself to open his eye, the Face was greeted by vision of a blurred red mass and a blinding white light. He shook the opacity in his orb and stared in aghast at what was happening._

_Raven was no longer a child; she had retuned to her teenage self . . . and was attacking her father. _

_The cries of pain that Trigon emitted from his mouth rang louder than before. With every strike, the red leviathan staggered, swayed and swung in all directions as Raven continued her assault._

_As the purple haired empath began striding towards the demon, _he_ noticed that the other Titans rose to their feet and took position behind her. Even _he_ would admit, the sight of the sorceress delivering blow after blow, bringing pain down on Trigon was exhilarating; _he_ knew her powers were incredible, but this was unlike anything he had ever seen the girl do._

_He noticed something else as well; they were no longer paying any attention to him. He saw Raven levitate higher and higher, defying gravity with every passing second. Once she had finished with Trigon, all five of them would make their way over to _him_ and would be certain to have him incarcerated._

That's not going to happen, I will not be cannon fodder, then thrown in jail.

_Hoisting himself to his feet, he began a brisk walk away from the action._

_He must have got at least thirty meters before a white light began chasing him. Right now, he was not concerned about what was happening to Trigon right now; he was concerned about making his grand exit. Inevitably, the white light swallowed _him_ up . . ._

_Time: 7:00:00 a.m._

_Bzzzzt, bzzzzt, bzzzzt . . ._

His eye shot open, startled slightly by the monotonous cries of an electronic alarm clock, calling to be turned off. He kicked his feet of the desk, stood up, stretched his back, arms, and legs, cracked his neck, wrists and ankles and began walking towards an indigo curtain. Pulling the curtain away, he was greeted to the sight of a makeshift bed: a single mattress, a greying quilt that was devoid of a bed sheet and an even greyer pillow that also had no sheet; hardly fit for a king, but it did its job regardless.

Eyeballing the blinking red lights from the alarm clock, he reached over and flicked the switch that ceased the irritating tone coming from the electronic device.

The flashing illuminations turned on the light bulb in his mind. He left the bodge-job bedroom, walked back to his desk and opened one of the many drawers; his face lighting up at the sight of the numerous envelopes that were stashed in the drawer.

Of course, _she_ was instrumental in making sure that a lot of today's 'incidents' went off without a hitch, but these little letters were incredibly important for a specific individual.

But until then, current business was the top priority.

He gathered the envelopes and removed them from the drawer before closing it. Next, he reached underneath the desk and took out a black, leather briefcase; this would also be important to him. Grasping the letters and briefcase, he took one last observation of the multitude of television screens. In the majority of areas he had placed the cameras; they were yet to be disturbed. Soon enough, those cameras would show the disruption and disaster that he been pre-planned.

He turned his attention to the cameras that did show activity.

At Caspar Confectionary, the fire fighters had long done their duties in extinguishing the fires and the police were deep in roaming around the shop. The camera angle only showed faint bodies entering and leaving the building, not what was going on inside. But that did not matter; the reward came in the form of paramedics wheeling a trolley out of the charred, destroyed sweet shop a black body bag. _He_ could only imagine the state of the body that was contained in the bag . . . he liked it.

The next camera was focused on a concrete path where _he_ saw the young, delectable body of poor, little Hannah Young bleeding, writhing, and dying; the life inside her exuding with every breath she took. He imagined her calling weakly, begging for anyone nearby to help her, to save her. Well, that was not going to happen.

The third camera showed the inside of the house . . . correction, _burning_ house that belonged to Saira Thurman. _He _was impressed, yet disappointed. Impressed in his compatriot had used such ingenuity in attracting attention, but disappointed that he had missed the whole show. As the flames continued in licking and something the floors, walls and ceiling, the inferno slowly, ever so slowly, began to eat up Saira's dark skin. This current activity sent waves of electricity flowing through his body.

The fourth camera showed . . .

_Interesting, _he thought to himself, _very interesting. Batman's rent-boy and the green circus freak have stayed back . . . not what I expected but still. And what's this? They're arguing with one another?_

He did not think his smile could get any wider, but somehow, it did. The only thing that was a shame was that the cameras had no sound emitting from them. He would have loved to have heard what they were saying.

_The cracks are already beginning to show._

He saw Robin take out his communicator and begin speaking into it; BeastBoy walked away, out of shot from the camera.

Squinting, he could tell that the Boy Wonder had just received some horrific news.

_What in the world could that be I wonder?_

"WHAT!"

"The pair of us was talking and then we both smelled gas. Seconds later, a house exploded right besides us."

"Where are you?" Robin asked in a panicked voice; he could not believe the day that was occurring today.

"I don't know" BeastBoy's ears picked up perfectly the state of panic and uncertainty that was laced in Raven's voice.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Robin's voice showed a sign of irritation.

"The pair of us landed in a rural part of the city; I have no idea where we are" Raven's dialogue ceased. Robin overheard the purple haired heroine ask someone where they were, "I've just been told that we're at Steinhouse Avenue.

"The public have already called for an ambulance and the police and fire fighters should be here soon enough"

Robin harshly ran his hand over his face, and then shook his head. This was all unbelievable, seriously unbelievable. He quickly remembered . . .

"Starfire . . . Raven, please put Starfire on, I want see if she's okay"

Raven did not immediately respond. Instead, she stuttering and hesitated in responding to the Boy Wonder.

Robin was starting to get aggravated by Raven's vacillation; BeastBoy was getting anxious. The changeling could tell by Raven's vocals that she was struggling to say something . . . _Something bad?_

"Raven . . . put Starfire on now . . . that's an order" Robin pushed the empath again.

BeastBoy chose to speak up, completely forgetting about his earlier encounter with the empath a few short hours ago, "Raven, what's happened?" and then followed the next sentence that sent Robin's heartbeat racing through the roof "Is Starfire okay?"

Robin wide wide-eyed with shock.

Raven finally spoke, acknowledging Robin rather than BeastBoy "Robin . . . I . . . I'm sorry . . . Starfire's hurt".

The two males' jaws fell to the floor in horror.

As the trepidation in Robin increased and intensified, he hurriedly called down the communicator, "Hurt . . . what do you mean hurt? Raven? What happened? Is she breathing? Is she moving? Raven? Answer me! What's going on? How . . .?"

Raven repeatedly told Robin to stop stammering and explained what had happened.

Raven interpreted to the events that occurred, "When the building exploded, the pair of us was thrown off our feet. Whilst I landed on the road, the force sent Starfire into a fire hydrant . . . and she hit her head pretty hard"

BeastBoy swore he say a tear fall down the Boy Wonder's cheek as Raven described the events that took place.

Holding back the emotion – which was such a damn hard thing for Robin to do at this moment in time – Robin asked, "Raven . . . is Starfire . . ."

Raven cut of her leader, "She's still breathing Robin, and she's unconscious but still breathing"

Both boys sighed in relief at the news.

"Raven" BeastBoy piped up again "can't you heal Starfire with your glowing, healing thingy powers?"

"My healing powers only work for abrasion and broken bones; I don't have the ability to heal major organs"

Robin gritted his teeth in disappointment. He pushed this aside and managed to ask "Raven, cant you fly Starfire to the nearest hospital?"

"Robin, don't worry. An ambulance is coming soon enough."

"Raven, that's not what I asked."

Huffing in frustration, Raven responded, "No . . . Robin. I was almost wiped out by a gas explosion. My emotions went haywire and therefore, my powers are not working."

"How do you know that if you haven't tried?"

"Whenever I get any form of skin abrasion or broken bone, my powers heal them within a matter of seconds. The explosion happened no more than five minutes ago and I am still covered in cuts, scratches and I'm still bleeding from my arm . . . and thanks for asking me how I was by the way"

Both Robin and BeastBoy looked at each other in uncertainty blended with embarrassment.

Robin quickly ended this awkwardness and resumed speaking, "Raven, stay with Starfire and make sure that she's safe. You've had first aid training, so make sure you utilise it fully, okay?"

"Sure thing, I wont let her come to harm"

"Thanks. Robin out"

Robin closed the flap on his communicator and returned it to his pocket.

Robin now had a dilemma on his hands. The current location he and BeastBoy were at had practically been finished as far their investigation goes; they had unearthed some crucial information and now knew that a young female was involved in the old woman's death. However, now that Raven and Starfire had been prevented for going to Caspar's, there was still pivotal information that the Titans needed for the events that occurred at the sweet shop. He could not ask Cyborg to go there as he was already on his way to the hospital and he would not ask BeastBoy because, well . . . it _was_ BeastBoy.

He shuddered; he almost could not believe what he was going to say, but it had to be done, "Okay BeastBoy, this is what's going to happen.

"I think we are both in agreement that we're finished here, yes?" the changeling nodded in agreement, "Good, okay, so this is the plan. We are going to leave here, and then you're going to fly my over to Caspar's. Once you've dropped me off, you go over to Raven and Starfire and . . ."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa" straight away, BeastBoy stopped the Boy Wonder in mid-flow, "What do you mean that _you're _going to go to Caspar's and _I'm _going to Raven and Starfire?"

Robin sighed in frustration before resuming his speech, ". . . and you're going to go with them to the hospital, understand?"

"Uh, no, I don't understand . . . I don't understand why the hell you're abandoning you're _girlfriend_ after she's been severely injured and was nearly killed. I don't understand why the girl you love" BeastBoy was so close to adding 'supposedly' in the sentence but thought better of it "is not going to being seeing your face when she wakes up. I don't understand why . . ."

"BeastBoy . . . SHUT UP!" Robin closed the gap and was virtually nose to nose with the green teen, "I gave you an order, and by God, you are going to follow that order, do you hear me?" Robin voice was now in a low, growling tone; every syllable uttered through clenched teeth.

BeastBoy gave a laugh that was littered with disbelief, "Ha, you're unbelievable. You're basically saying that you're pride, you're ego, your selfishness . . . this mission, is more important than Starfire", jabbing Robin in the chest with his finger at everything he listed, rage was boiling in his stomach and it threatened to overflow and scold Robin.

Robin had got this far, he was not backing down now, even if the glower in BeastBoy's eyes had returned; maintaining the same tone level, he said "I'm selfish? You're protesting because you don't want to see Raven right now, aren't you?

_Oh my God, tell me he didn't just say that?_, the green teen could not believe what he had just heard, "You what?" BeastBoy's vocals matched the obfuscation charging in his mind.

Ignoring his question, the traffic light on legs concluded his dialogue, "I'm going to say this once and only once . . . you're going to drop whatever issues you have with Raven and ensure that she and Starfire are alright . . . and _that . . ._ _is_ an _order_"

Before BeastBoy had a chance to snap back, Robin quickly spun around, sprinted out of the door and pulling out his grappling hook, he unleashed on a nearby building and hoisted himself into the air.

BeastBoy had been left in the house, stewing in his own anger at Robin's blatant lack of concern, consideration and cogitation for his girlfriend.

He paced back and forth, back and forth; the temptation to punch a hole through the wall presented itself on a myriad of occasions, but he held back. If he imagined Robin's face on the wall, that would definitely make it easier, but it would not change help in the least.

In truth, Robin's words really irritated BeastBoy. Whilst speaking to Raven over the communicator, he completely forgot about his 'issues' with Raven. He was even aghast that Robin suggested such a thing. But Raven's manner over the communicator – how she dismissed the changeling and only directed her speech to Robin – caused the doubt to resurrect itself in BeastBoy's mind.

No matter how hard it was to ignore, one of his friends was currently needed assistance. And whilst Robin may not have been willing to be by Starfire's side, BeastBoy would be.

Making his way to the door, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him. He ran at a brisk pace, leapt in the air and morphed into a kestrel. All he had to do now was find Raven and Starfire.

Swinging in on his grappling hook, Robin landed perfectly on top of the roof of the building opposite Caspar Confectionary. The repugnant essence of burnt wood, burnt brick and carbon monoxide brought back the nauseous feeling in Robin's stomach; he could not remember such a sight in his life.

His eyes surveyed the streets. The number of punters had increased significantly since the Titans left; he swore that those who were here the first time had stayed and had no intention of leaving the sight.

Robin's masked orbs landed on Lieutenant Steve Brauner who was having banter with one of his colleagues; laughing and joking no less. The Boy Wonder could not believe it.

_What the hell is that jackass laughing for? Does he really think that this is funny? _Robin's fury boiled inside him like a bubbling cauldron; he felt that now was the best time to make his appearance.

Out of nowhere, Steve Brauner saw the traffic light on legs appear from nowhere. He was hoping that after his drumming down, the Boy Wonder would get the message and not bother showing up. Obviously, the message had not sunk it. The last thing he wanted was kids getting in the way of something as serious as the incident at hand.

Sighing in frustration, Steve broke away from his colleague, placed closed fists on his waist and made his way over to the superhero, "I thought I told you that you and your teams help were not required"

Not backing down from the officers rhetoric, Robin replied, "You said that we could not go in whilst forensics did their jobs. Well, they've had more than two hours now, that should have been plenty of time for them to have found something; I thought that you would like to keep me updated"

To say that the lieutenant did not like the cut of the Boy Wonders jib would have been an understatement. He could not give a flying fuck whether he was Batman's ex-protégé or whatever affiliation he may have with any other big booted hero or the Justice League faction; he was still a kid, nothing less and certainly nothing more.

He eventually noticed that his colleagues were nowhere to be seen, this intrigued the lieutenant, he had to bring this up; it was too good of an opportunity to miss, "I admire your persistence" he lied "which is more that can be said about your team. Where are they? Back in their comfy, warm beds?"

The lieutenant's discourteous tone did not settle with Robin. What was this guy's problem? And 'team'? What the hell?

"First of all, they're not 'my team', they're my friends" Robin ignored Steve's sarcastic nod of the head "Secondly, they have their own objectives and thirdly, you can try your damndest to push me away from this, but I intend to stick on this investigation like glue. So, you can either fill me in on what you and your team have discovered, or I can just find out for myself" Robin closed the gap between him and the officer "either way, I will find out who did this"

Steve was unshakeable. He had to admit, the kid certainly had some front; maybe his assistance would not be such a bad thing.

"Okay, you want in, then let's set some ground rules"

_Good, _Robin mentally high-fived himself, _I'll play his game if it means getting an insight into what they've discovered._

"Anything and everything that you are told stays with you and only with you, got it?"

Robin nodded.

"Good. Oh, and if you and your _team_ discover anything that indicates who did this, then you let me be the first to know, understand?"

Well, Robin knew that that was not going to happen, but he had to feign agreement.

"Brilliant, I'm glad we got that clear"

"Oh my gosh. Mommy, look, look . . ."

"Carla, it's rude to point at people"

"But Mommy, its Cyborg, look"

"Carla, don't . . ."

Cyborg saw the woman pause to stare at the cybernetic being. Her jaw dropped at the sight of the Titan.

"Mommy, it's rude to stare"

Cyborg could not help but laugh at what was happening between the young mother and her child. He stopped to wave at the two females, to which they replied back with their own wave; the mothers jaw still hanging loosely.

Cyborg approached the reception desk. Sitting behind the lengthy desk was a young woman who looked no older than twenty-five years old, brown hair that was fixed into a ponytail and a matching pair of brown eyes behind a pair of black framed glasses and a crimson t-shirt that hugged her body with a name badge which read Kimberly.

The receptionist looked up at the half man half machine and asked "May I help you sir?"

Cyborg leant on the counter and replied "Yeah, I need access to the morgue". Even Cyborg would admit that his answer was particularly blunt and . . . well, weird, and Kimberly's face certainly did not betray the notion of confusion.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry, what?"

Leaning forward and dropping his voice to a whisper, Cyborg went into further detail, "Look, earlier on, a woman called from 1679 Ridenour Street requiring assistance, right?"

Kimberly creased her face, trying to remember that call. Within seconds, the light bulb was switched on in her head. Yes, she had taken a call from someone of that address. She could remember an elderly woman sounding particularly distressed, asking . . . no, pleading for help before blurting out the address then ending the call. She nodded in a response to the Titans' response.

"And two paramedics were sent out . . . ummm, Leo and Melissa?"

"Ah yes, yes it was those two that were sent out"

"Well, they came back shortly and I'm here to receive a confirmed report as to the cause of death"

Perplexity pounced on Kimberly's mind, "Is that a duty for the Titans to do now? I thought that was the duty of the police"

What Cyborg was about to say was risky, and he knew it. It could potentially bite him in his metal arse, but if it was to get him into the morgue, he knew it had to be said, "I was specifically asked to come here by Lieutenant Steve Brauner. He would've come himself but he's back in the town centre. D'ya hear about the stuff that went down at Caspar Confectionary?"

"Oh God, yes I did. Now with what happened at Steinhouse Avenue, I should imagine that the police will be . . ."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean 'what happened at Steinhouse Avenue'?" Cyborg cut off the young receptionist.

"You mean you don't know what happened?"

Cyborg shook his head.

Kimberly was surprised, "I thought that was the reason that you were sent here. It's all over the news. It happened about twenty, thirty minutes ago when . . ."

Cyborg did not listen to the rest of Kimberly explanation. Instead, he broke off into a sprint and into the patient's waiting room.

The waiting room was a particularly small area. There were rows upon rows of chairs; fifty to be exact and only ten people occupied those seats, tables strewn with magazines; some which dated back to January . . . of last year, the walls plastered with a sickly green colour to which Cyborg thought was very apt in conjunction with the hospital itself, health posters which intended to scare the be-Jesus out of anyone severely concerned with personal hygiene or signs to look out for in case anyone suffered a stroke were plastered all over the walls, an analogue clock hung on one of the green walls which read the time as seven-twenty-nine and thirty-seven seconds and a small screen television hung in one corner. He approached the television and turned the volume up.

" . . . to which we now cross over to Hilary Jenkins with the latest news of what happened not long ago on the rural area of Steinhouse Avenue. Hilary, what's the latest?"

The screen cut from the newsreader's face – whose name was Christian Solomon – and to a forty plus year old woman in an all black, corporate style suit with greying black hair. Behind her, Cyborg saw that police cars, a fire engine and an ambulance had surrounded what appeared to be a burning house. Crowds of people were gathered around the burning wreckage as police attempted in vain, to haul people away from the scene in order to protect them.

Hilary began speaking, "Thanks Christian. Approximately half an hour ago, the quiet suburb of Steinhouse Avenue, here in the heart of Jump City, was viciously disturbed when this house behind me" she turned to point at the house behind her on that sentence, "for reasons unknown, ignited and as you can see, has been totally destroyed.

"Emergency services arrived no more than five minutes ago. As you can see behind me" the camera zoomed away from Hilary, "police are desperately trying to usher civilians away from this horrific incident. However, due to the incident that occurred to Caspar Confectionary, police are short in numbers so they do face a tough challenge.

"Fire services are on course in quelling the burning wreckage, but as of yet, we have no reports as to who was in the building at the time, or to what could have caused the fire in the first place, but we will bring you up to speed on any updates.

"Furthermore, we received video footage taken from a video camera on a cell phone that we have received from an anonymous member of public which shows, what can only be described as, shocking footage.

"We are about to play this footage, so viewer discretion is advised"

Cyborg was hooked onto every single word that was pouring out of the newsreaders mouth. He could not believe it. If he thought he was shocked now, he was in no way prepared for what came up next.

The shaky footage showed the burning house crumbling as crowds of people ran in an assortment of directions. Cyborg picked up on some speech patterns, speech patterns that were extremely familiar. Cyborg did a double take . . . the camera phone's footage showed Raven pushing her way through a crowd of people; that familiar voice belonged to her.

As Raven shoved her way past the gathering crowd, the person behind the camera took initiative and moved in closer. The bobbing and weaving of the camera went to a birds-eye view. About five/ten seconds later, the camera caught a sight that made Cyborg's heart to freeze . . . Starfire was splayed out on the concrete, her eyes closed, not moving; Raven screaming the Tamaranian's name was the last thing he saw.

Rooted to the same spot that he had been the last two minutes, Cyborg saw Hilary's face re-appear on the screen and she resumed speaking, "As you can see, Raven and Starfire, members of the infamous Titans, were in this vicinity when the explosion occurred. From the video footage, we can see that Starfire was injured during that explosion whilst Raven is seen virtually unscathed. Paramedics have refused to release the extent of Starfire's injuries but we have received unconfirmed reports that she has suffered a concussion and no other major injuries. We can confirm that a few moments ago, an ambulance took Starfire, along with fellow Titans: Raven and BeastBoy – whom arrived at the sight no more than three minutes ago. With regards to the explosion, police are asking desperately for people who . . ."

Cyborg stopped listening to the rest of what Hilary was saying and slumped down in one of the many waiting room chairs. He rested his head on his right hand; he had been stunned, virtually stunned into shock.

Starfire had been injured. His own sister – well, they were not blood related but still, she was as good as a sibling – had been involved in an explosion and was knocked out . . . Why had he not been told about this the second it occurred?

Raven was plainly caught up in the mess; BeastBoy was also involved in that mess, where the hell was Robin? What the hell was going on? What else had happened that he had not been told about? Which hospital were Starfire, Raven and BeastBoy heading to? Here? Another hospital?

Cyborg began seething. Again, he had been left out of any update, excluded from any changes that plainly happened in Robin's orders, and was not made aware of his teammates coming a cropper.

In the confines of his chair, Cyborg began to shake . . . shake in rage.

_Why? Why the hell am I the last to find out? Do they even remember that I'm here? Of course they won't. After all, I'm just their friend, their family, their good ol' toaster, blender, their coffee maker on legs, their . . . _

"Mister Cyborg? Sir?"

The sweet, subtle, soft sound of a female's voice and the poking of a finger snapped him out of his thoughts and brought his eyes down the little girl who was with her mother when he first entered the hospital? Carly? Carol?

"I'm sorry to bother you, but . . ." Carla's voice was shaking with nervousness, he hands shook as she held out a pen and paper, "please . . . may I have your autograph Mister Cyborg?"

The female paramedic – whose name was Angela Starr – kept a cautious watch on the heart rate monitor. The electronic device showed that the Tamaranian had a heart rate at one-hundred and twenty-seven beats per minute. At first, she was instantly panicking at the insanely high heart rate, but was quickly reassured by her purple haired teammate who told Angela that, for Tamaranian's, that was the normal heart rate and if it dropped below seventy-five beats per minute, that was when Angela had to worry.

Angela stared at the orange skinned super hero – who had a damaged purple-blue cloak wrapped over her body – with abject wonder. It was easy to forget sometimes that she was in fact non-human and it was the first time that she had ever been in contact with something of Starfire's kind.

Roughly five minutes into the journey to the hospital, Angela's co-worker – a male by the name Matthew Carshalton, who was driving the ambulance – asked what had happened.

Raven explained everything. She told both paramedics that she and Starfire smelled gas coming from somewhere and before they knew it, they were propelled into the air. When Raven found Starfire, she was crumpled up on the pavement; her head was nestled on a fire hydrant. Raven assumed that when Starfire was thrown into the air, her head had collided with the hydrant and knocked her out. She also told the paramedics that she did make sure that Starfire's airways was clear, that she had made sure that she had a pulse, put her in the recovery position and wrapped her cloak around her friend to keep her warm.

The paramedics thanked Raven for taking the necessary procedures, attached Starfire to the trolley and put her in the ambulance.

Seconds later, BeastBoy – who sat opposite Starfire but kept some distance from Raven – sat hunched over, his gloved hands clasped together and had a look of solemn despair etched all over his face.

Raven could not help but notice how the changeling looked. She momentarily forgot that there was any friction between the pair of them and felt genuine sorrow for the guy. She knew that he and Starfire were close; practically brother and sister. She could feel the hurt radiating off of the guy.

Angela saw the way Raven was looking at BeastBoy. She then saw how the changeling looked before placing a gloved hand on his knee, inspiriting the green teen, "She's going to be alright BeastBoy . . . I promise"

BeastBoy broke his gaze from the floor to look into Angela's eyes; emerald eyes, just like Starfire's. He went from Angela back to Starfire's static state. The sight was unbearable. He did not stop the tears falling from his eyes. He unclasped his hands and placed his face in them. He did not bother stopping his sobs, even if there were two women surrounding him.

BeastBoy did not notice the hand that the female paramedic placed on his shoulder . . . or who he thought was the paramedic.

Angela watched as the purple haired heroine closed the gap between herself and the morphing hero and placed a hand on his shoulder. Whilst it was rather cute to seen the look of compassion of the sorceress face, the paramedic watched in wide-eyed wonder as she saw the empath arm starting to . . . heal itself?

Yes, her skin was healing itself. Of course, Angela and Matthew had asked Raven whether she needed any treatment, she declined. But – and Angela still could not believe it – the second her hand made contact with the changeling's shoulder, the scratches and blood started to fade away and within what could not have been fifteen seconds, it was replaced with undamaged skin; as though she had not been injured at all.

Silence screamed throughout the vehicle – all apart from the bleeping from the heart rate monitor – for a long time until Matthew's voice called from the driver's seat, "Here we are ladies and gentlemen . . . Jump City General Hospital"

_**Time: **__7:58:57 a.m._

With his dog hauling at his leash, William 'Billy' Wilson walked his dog along Pinehurst Street; which was almost deserted at this time of the morning; which was not uncommon on a Sunday morning. Along his usual route, the clipping of his Alsatian's claws on the concrete, plus the sounds of the chirping pigeons were the only noises that filled the street at this time of morning.

The early morning sun warmed the streets at a toasty twenty degrees Celsius (sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit) and Billy wished that he had not worn a sweater.

However, unbeknown to him, the heat was about to be the last thing that was about to concern him.

As he turned the corner, the sound of Ronnie's (his dog) toenails against the concrete and the twittering birds were accompanied by what sounded like screaming.

Billy stopped and listening intently. He could hear cries for help. A woman screaming.

"Help! Someone help me" these repeated cries were then cut off by a high pitched scream.

Releasing the leash, Billy sprinted down the street until he reached an alleyway. His eyes were introduced to the sight of a young, dark haired girl who was being assaulted by a towering figure.

"Hey" Billy called out, "Oi you"

He was ignored as the assault continued.

Fuelled by instinct, Billy rushed into the alleyway.

The shadowed figure saw a brown haired man running towards him, a grin spread from underneath his mask. He turned his attention away from the young woman and stood up to take on the 'hero-of-the-hour'.

Billy went to strike the assailant but ended up receiving a kick in his stomach which sent him crashing to the dirty, wet, litter covered concrete. He hunched himself up, scrunched his eyes closed and clutched his stomach and tried to recuperate his breath. Even in pain, Billy opened his eyes and saw the leviathan stalking him, like a cheetah approaching a wounded deer. Mustering his strength, Billy waited until this bastard was close enough before he drew his leg back and kicked him in the knee.

Billy will filled with a small sense of triumph as the figure doubled over, holding his knee. Drawing back his same leg, he kicked his square in his jaw. The assaulter fell back like a falling tree and landed on his back.

Gathering his breath, Billy stood up, brushed himself off and made his way to the young girl who was cowering against the wall, holding her legs and her face was against her knees; she was shivering.

Taking caution, Billy bent down and placed his hand on the girls shoulder. She instantly shuddered and looked into Billy's eyes. He could see that her eyes were dark red, tears were streaming down her face, make-up was smeared, and lips were shivering and her skin was cold to the touch.

In a quiet whisper, Billy asked, "Miss, are you hurt?"

Whimpering, the girl shook her head.

"Did he . . . um, well did . . .?"

"No" the girl quickly responded, she knew what he was going to say, "No, he didn't"

Nodding his head, Billy expected the girl's clothes. There were no obvious abrasion or injuries, just her shirt had been torn at both sleeves and that the shirt, jeans and shoes were dirty.

Offering his head, Billy said, "Okay miss, can you stand up?"

She nodded.

"Okay, come with me and we can go to the police, alright?"

With her lips quiver, she mustered a thankful smile and replied "Okay"

The girls took his hand with her left and supported herself on her right hand.

As Billy helped the young lady onto her feet, completely oblivious to the knife that she took from behind her back.

In one swift movement, she took the knife from behind her back and stuck it in the mans neck; blood spluttered from his windpipe onto her face; her mouth turned into a smile . . . an evil smile.

From the moment the knife went in his neck, to the moment he collapsed to the floor, she kept eye contact with him . . . until the moment his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his eyelids closed.

Moments later, _he_ - who had pretended to assault her - joined her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

What had just passed was probably the riskiest move in the whole plan, but it had worked fantastically. _He_ knew that if he was wearing his trademark attire, then he would have been rumbled by the 'failed hero'. _He_ had taken the liberty of picking out a costume which consisted of a leather trench coat, olive coloured khakis, brown boots and a brown fedora that offered enough coverage to hide his facial features.

"You did well" his low, haunting voice – which sounded like music to her ears – spoke out.

"Thanks. I've always been a good actress" she turned to look at him, the grin still plastered on her face.

Making eye contact with his assistant, _he_ flashed a black envelope that had the letter T emblazed in red text on the front.

Looking quizzically at her boss, _he_ responded, "A little note for our good friends . . . the Titans" before bending down and placing it on Billy's stomach.

Rising to his feet, he said "Now, how about some breakfast"

**END OF CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Just to update you guys, I said in the previous chapter that I was considering releasing a small story with a Christmas-y theme. Well . . . it's been scrapped. The truth of the matter was that it was completely unrealistic releasing a twelve chapter piece in the space of eighteen days. So, it's been put on hiatus until next year (possibly . . . I don't know . . . who does know?)._

_**Reading Recommendations**_

**1. **_Brown Eyes by GreenRock (yeah, it's a shameless plug for my own work . . . but can't I be an attention whore now and then?) . . . two girls, one boy. A romantic themed one-shot with a sorrowful twist. Due to moments where both girls let their guards down, they were soon to learn that they lost their love . . . all because of brown eyes. Inspired by the song Brown Eyes by Lady Gaga._

**2. **_No, We Are Not Happy Campers by PanamaRoxMySox . . . Garfield Logan signs himself and his friend, Rachael Roth, up for volunteering work for a summer kids camp. As chaos ensues and their time is dominated by rowdy, unruly little brats, the result of their time as volunteers ends in unexpected results. Recommended for those who are feeling down this Christmas period and are gagging for a laugh._

**3. **_A Partridge in a Pear Tree by Tammy Tambourine . . . no one wants to be alone in life. Despite loving the Christmas season, Raven only wants one gift, and this year, it's going to come from the most unlikely source. And by Christmas day, maybe, just maybe, she will get the gift that she longs for . . . and maybe just a little bit more._

_Next chapter will __definitely__ be released on Christmas Day. I know all of you will probably be too busy for Fan Fiction for the 25__th__, but think of it as a present for all my readers around the world; I certainly don't forget about you guys._

_Until then . . . lots of love, peace and all that jazz._


	10. Chapter 9: Scrambled Eggs and Cyanide

**CHAPTER NINE – Scrambled Eggs and Cyanide**

_**Time: **__8:01:24 a.m._

Unaware of all the commotion that had been occurring over the last four hours, fifty-eight year old Miriam Stimpson flipped from the right hand side of the king sized bed over to the left hand side. The second that this happened, her eyes immediately shot open; she had shifted over the side of the bed that she shared with her husband . . . her husband Derek Stimpson. This, straight away, did not settle well with her. She knew that her husband's night shift ended – Miriam averted her eyes towards the metal alarm clock that sat on the bedside table – a little over two hours ago and he would have stripped down to his briefs and got straight into bed; so not rolling on top of him caused suspicion inside her.

Deciding to get out of bed, she threw off the heavy duvet, swung her legs out and inserted her bare feet into a pair of cream slippers. Next, she stood up and straightened her night dress before taking her light blue cotton nightgown that hung onto a hook on the wardrobe and wrapped herself inside its snug confines.

She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway before calling out, "Derek? Derek, are you home?"

No-one responded.

As suspicion started to bubble in Miriam's gut, she went into the kitchen to see if there were any signs that her husband had returned . . . nothing.

This was certainly strange. It was never like Derek to not be asleep by this time of the morning. Well, all except when he was not working late Saturday evening into the ungodly hours of Sunday morning.

Something did not feel right. Miriam could not quite explain what it was, but whatever it was, she hated the feeling.

She would never call her husband whilst he was at work, unless it was an emergency situation. Well, work was the only place in the world where she thought he would be right now and as far as she was concerned, this _was_ an emergency . . . Derek was missing.

She made her way over to the telephone and from memory, tapped the keys. Ending the eleven-digit number, the recurring dial tone rang in her ear as she waited for a response. With the phone glued to her ear, she walked over to were the television was situated. Taking the remote off of the top of the television, she pressed the stand-by button. As the dial tone kept up its mechanical pitch, Miriam almost dropped the phone to the floor as the television said 'Good Morning' to her, in the form Christian Solomon (the Jump City International News reporter) sitting behind a desk with the words 'Breaking News' emblazed along the bottom of the screen in bold capitals and in black and yellow writing with scenes of a burning building in the top corner of the screen.

". . . police authorities are currently undergoing their search of Caspar Confectionary. It was approximately around four o'clock in the early hours of this morning that the candy store that has been established in Jump City for more than a hundred years was reportedly the target of suspected-terrorist activity. Though it is uncertain to everyone as to why this store was targeted, we will inform you the moment the reasoning becomes clear. However, we can confirm that just under an hour ago, and a body – highly believed to be that of the shops owner, seventy-three year old Richie Caspar – was removed from the building and taken to the nearest mortuary via ambulance.

"As reported earlier by our correspondent Hilary Jenkins, another explosion transpired around six-twenty-five this morning, when a house in the rural area of Steinhouse Avenue was reported to have ignited. The cause of this explosion is yet unknown but we have been notified that fire services have already been issued down to that house and are currently putting an end to the fire; once the inferno has been subdued, the police will do a search of the property and we should know what the cause of the incident was.

"As of yet, the only injured individuals that we currently know about, who were affected by the Steinhouse Avenue explosion was the Tamaranian warrior and member of the prodigious faction of five, the Titans, Starfire."

The video footage that was taken from a camera showed the scene again where crowds of people gathered around an injured red-haired girl (Miriam instantly knew was Starfire) and the sight of a purple haired female (_Raven,_ Miriam recognised just as quickly) pushing through those crowds in order to get to her teammate.

"For those of you who have just joined JCIN, the latest, breaking news story of today . . . explosions have rocked the Jump City area were there has been one reported death, that person again was Richie Caspar, seventy-three, owner of family run candy shop Caspar Confectionary and one injury, that person, again, is Titan member . . . Starfire . . ."

The telephone kept ringing its dialling tone.

Soon after he gave the little girl his autograph, Kimberly (the receptionist) approached Cyborg with a man behind her. The young receptionist introduced the man to Cyborg as Dr. Adrian Marley – the hospitals resident pathologist.

Cyborg recognised Adrian as a man in his early forties and quite gangly – then again, he was six feet five inches tall, mousy brown hair, freckled face, thin framed spectacles over light brown eyes and wore the traditional white overalls.

Holding out his hand, Adrian began the conversation, "Good morning Cyborg"

The mechanical man took the pathologists hand and shook it, "Hey doc"

Chuckling at the young's mans response; Adrian said "So, you told Kimberly that you needed to come down to the morgue"

Recognising that the waiting was not empty – minus himself and the pathologist of course – Cyborg asked, "Do ya know somewhere where we can talk about this? It's quite confidential"

"Oh, sure, no problem at all. Please, do follow me."

A short walk later, Adrian had led Cyborg to an unoccupied office, locked the door behind the pair of them and said, "Okay, why do you need to come down to the mortuary? Is this about the incident that happened at Caspar's?"

Milk chocolate eyes widened for a moment, "Uh, actually no, that's not the reason why I'm here"

Adrian was pleasantly surprised by the half man half machines response.

"Oh, no?"

"No, I'm here for something else"

"Oh. Okay then, what would that 'something else' be exactly?"

Breathing deep, Cyborg commenced speaking, "Okay, earlier this morning, roughly around six o'clock, two paramedics were called out to a distress call . . . Ridenour Street I think it was . . . anyways, when they got there, they found an elderly woman lying at the bottom of the stairs . . . dead"

Scrunching his eyes in concentration, the pathologist immediately replied, "Ah yes, would that be a woman by the name of Iona Islington?"

Cyborg's brain instantly froze; he had no clue what the ladies name was. In fact, he had no clue what the woman looked like or any specific feature that he could use to confirm the name. Stumbling for a response, Cyborg thought that the pathologist would not have offered up a name if he had not mentioned the street name.

Taking what was a gamble; Cyborg said "Yes, that's her"

"Yes" Adrian shook his head in despondency "she was here a few weeks ago. Had a family history of diabetes. It was one of the paramedics who recognised her. Was here a few weeks back actually for a blood test.

"When I heard she had died, I thought it was the diabetes. You know, her body not producing enough insulin, probably left her injections downstairs, went to get them, lost her footing and went tumbling"

"Well, there's the problem you see . . . we don't believe it was an accident"

Now this really grabbed the doctors attention, "What?"

Cyborg continued his explanation, "When me and my friends arrived at the house, Leo Mitchell and Melissa Pritchard who were the paramedics there when we arrived, said that the front door was open when they entered the house"

Adrian's eyes literally doubled in size, "What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is . . . is that we don't believe that this is all as black and white as it seems"

"And when you say 'we', you're referring to you and your colleagues"

What Cyborg said next would probably land him and his friends into a world of shit, but if they was to get any closer to the truth, "If you're wondering whether I'm here on Robin's order, I can tell you that I'm not . . . Lieutenant Steve Brauner gave me the authority to come down here . . . he knows about this incident"

Adrian gave a breathy laugh, "Ah yes, young Stevie Brauner. Yes, I've had a few dealing with that jumped up little twerp"

Cyborg also scoffed in acknowledgment; at the same time, he hoped and prayed that this would convince Adrian enough to take Cyborg into the mortuary.

Adrian threw his hands in the air, "Well, if you've been given permission by an authority figure – plus, you are a Titan, I don't see any reason why you can't come down and report back on the findings"

Cyborg celebrated in his mind; elated that he had broken down what seemed to be an infrangible wall.

"Whilst you're here, you can pick up the findings on the Richie Caspar . . ."Adrian turned and unlocked the door, ". . . but I warn you" he turned his head to look at the cybernetic being, "it's not a pretty sight".

"Thanks fine doc, I've got a big enough stomach to handle anything" Cyborg joked to the pathologist, who in return, also laughed at the Titans' words.

Unbeknown to the pathologist – as well as Cyborg for that matter – there was no longer just one Titan who was currently occupying the hospital.

Staring through the sheet of glass, forest green eyes that were tinted with dark red streaks were unblinking at the state of the orange skinned girl that lay on a hospital bed. His heart could have broken into a million pieces at the sight of such a fragile, defenceless, delicate disposition.

For what must have felt like an hour, BeastBoy had not uttered a single word to anyone. He could not muster any energy to say anything. In front of him lay Starfire, the girl who, to him, was as good as his sister. She was someone who was always there for him whenever he needed cheering up, always there whenever he wanted anyone to laugh at his jokes (even if she did not understand a single one of them), always there to consume the delicacies of his tofu foods whenever anyone else would throw it back in his face . . . he found it astonishing just how much someone meant to him when they could have had their life taken away from them in the blink of an eye. He just wanted her to wake up, wanted her to lighten the room with her personality, her infectious aura, her joy-laden voice; he just wanted to be crushed to death by her vice-grip embrace.

All the tears that he thought he had cried out in the ambulance began flowing out once again. He pressed his head against the glass, shut his bloodshot eyes and silently cried.

Sorrow quickly became rage.

_I swear, when I find out who did this to you Star, I promise you that I'll make them pay._

His fists began to shake, manifesting the anger building up in his stomach.

The opening of the hospital rooms' door snapped BeastBoy out of his state. Quietly calming himself – which was no easy feat – a middle-aged man wearing a pristine white coat over a sky blue shirt accompanied by a navy blue tie, black trousers and gleaming black shoes stood facing him with a file in hand.

"You must be Starfire's friend? Uh, BeastBoy?" the doctor – whose name was Eric Lloyd – asked, extending a hand to the superhero.

"Yeah, yeah I am" replied the changeling, reciprocating the hand shake, "Is she gonna be okay doc? She's not gonna . . . well, is she . . .?"

Placing a hand on the teenagers shoulder, Eric answered, "She's going to be fine young man. Whenever people are in an unconscious state, they can be out from a matter of seconds to years."

The changeling's eyes widened with fright.

"But there's no need to worry" Eric continued, adding urgency to that sentence. He took his hand off of the hero and opened up his file "Ever heard of such a thing called the Glasgow Coma Scale?"

BeastBoy shook his head.

"Well, it's what's used to determine the condition of a person in an unconscious state. When a patient is in an unconscious state, we check their EMV responses – that's Eyes, Verbal and Motor responses. Depending on how the patient responds to specific criteria determines the severity of the state of unconsciousness. Based on the type of response, depends on what score we give towards that response.

"Now, Starfire's eyes responded whenever I communicated with her, that scored three points" Eric recognised the unbridled confusion in the shape shifters eyes, but carried on nonetheless, "Her verbal response scored four points, which meant that she managed to answer some basic questions that I asked her, but not fluently enough in order to engage in conversation with and showed obvious signs of disorientation when answering them. Lastly, her motor responses scored four points, meaning that she withdraw from pain when applied to her nail-bed but nothing else beyond that. Which, in conclusion, this means that with a total of eleven points, your friend is suffering from a moderate unconsciousness. Trust me when I say that it could have been a helluva lot worse. In conjunction to this, since your friend isn't, well . . . human, her recovery rates would probably much rapid than those of a human."

During the doctor's speech, BeastBoy thanked God for keeping Starfire away from serious danger. Now the tears were really falling and falling thick and fast. But these were not tears of sorrow; they were tears of relief.

Eric returned his hand to the green teens shoulder, "As a matter of fact, I can't imagine that it'll be long before she's able to speak to you and . . . where has the other one got to?"

Looking at his surroundings, BeastBoy had not noticed that Raven had gone AWOL. Neither he nor she had attempted in making small talk when they arrived at the hospital or in the ambulance. He had not even paid any attention to her during their arrival

"I dunno" was the changeling's only response.

"Oh, well, once I determine that Starfire is in a good enough condition, I'll notify you and then you can come in a talk to her, okay?"

"Sure thing doc . . . and thanks again"

Eric nodded his head in appreciation before turning on his heel and going back into Starfire's room.

BeastBoy chose to take a seat on one of the many plastic chairs that lined up along the wall. He cleaned his face of the tears that stained his cheeks and were swimming in his eyes before turning them to his open hands. He was tired; he had not had any sleep whatsoever for the last eighteen or so hours and he was starving. Considering that all he had to eat yesterday was tofu for breakfast and lunch, skipped dinner and substituted it for the junk food he kept in his bedroom, it was no wonder that he was craving for something to eat.

The rustling of a plastic bag knocked him out of his absent-minded state and brought him back into reality. Removing his face from his gloves, his eyes were greeted to the sight of navy blue boots, matching coloured cape and grey skinned legs. Looking up, he saw Raven hold out a drinks cup to him.

Taking the cup, thanking her in the process, he took a sip of the liquid, his tongue danced, swam and singed in the sour taste of black coffee. After his first consumption of the drink, he noticed Raven digging into the plastic bag, retrieving two bananas and handing them to the green teen.

After taking the fruit, Raven saw BeastBoy look at her in slight confusion, to which she responded, "Breakfast . . . hospitals do not supply tofu"

BeastBoy tittered at her comment and thanked for the food.

Raven sat down, three seats separating her from her colleague and took out her own food from the bag, an apple.

Before chowing down on his breakfast, BeastBoy thought that he should fill the empath in on what he was told about Starfire condition.

During his explanation, Raven could feel the pain that swarmed inside the shape shifter, his emotions were so raw, so conflicted, and it took a great deal concentration to control her own emotions from going haywire.

As he concluded what Eric had explained, BeastBoy concluded his dialogue, ". . . I know she's gonna be fine, but I still cant help but think that all this could've been so different. She could've been killed. She could've . . ." it was no good, tears came trickling down his cheeks again.

Raven watched in despondency as BeastBoy's waterworks resumed. Her concentration intensified; the sorrow that consumed the green teen was incredibly powerful and it was starting to make Raven quite disorientated. However, there was something nagging at her, something that bothered her.

_He said that 'she' could've been killed. He solely referred to Starfire when he spoke, not once did he make any allusion to me. Does he even care that I might've been seriously injured in the explosion?_

Raven stopped her thoughts right there. This was not the time for such thought. Yes, she was still bothered by BeastBoy not fully believing that she was sorry about her treatment of him in Tokyo and that he vocalized an acceptance that was lacklustre in truth, but with what has happened, it would be completely inappropriate to bring up such ambivalence.

So, she asked something else that had been plaguing her mind, "BeastBoy, where's Robin?"

BeastBoy ceased crying and sighed despondently, readying himself for the explanation that was about to come; both heroes completely unaware that their Tamaranian teammate was awakening from her comatose condition.

Having never been in a mortuary before, Cyborg anticipated that one would feel like a haunting environment. He expected the inner sanctum of the room filled with the deceased would be a cold, clinical environment and completely devoid of any emotion. Well, Cyborg was correct; except it was about a thousand times worse than he envisaged.

The very moment that Adrian Marley opened the metal door that led to the morgue, Cyborg felt his body temperature plummet from normal to arctic in a matter of nanoseconds; he was not certain whether this was just his preconceived conception about how morgue's were supposed to feel, or whether the room of the dead was _actually_ supposed to be that cold. The sight of the multitude of freezers that were lined up at the furthest end of the room, one after the other, sent shivers through Cyborg's system; he did not care if all of them contained any deceased entities, just the knowledge that hundreds, possibly even thousands of bodies had been in those metal capsules was good enough to unnerve him. Situated in the middle of the room, was a row of four dissection tables. Each one of them gleaming in the illumination of the halogens light fixtures that shone on top of them and emitting the stench of Deodorx Plus – a brand of disinfectant that is commonly used to clean dissecting tables; Cyborg spotted that the furthest table had a body bag on it already.

Cyborg's attention to his surroundings distracted him from the pathologist approaching one of the many freezers, unlocking it and opening the door.

"Here's what you came to see Cyborg" Adrian snapped the Titan out of his pensive trance and brought his attention to the black body bag that lay on the roll-in table.

Cyborg paced over to the black bag of death that the doctor had removed from its frozen confines; waves of frigidity flowed from the bag into thin air. As the doctor unzipped the bag, the cybernetic being braced himself for the moment where the sight of a deceased body welcomed him.

If he was honest, seeing the deceased Iona Islington for the first time was not as traumatic as he initially anticipated. She looked quite peaceful, undisturbed, as though she died peacefully; she would have looked that way if it was not for the blatant bruise on her neck that attracted Cyborg's attention like a beacon. It was that moment there that Cyborg, for the first time, thought that Robin and BeastBoy were actually onto something.

"I'm just going to do an examination of the deceased; which is going to take some time" said Adrian.

"Not a problem doc, I can wait" replied Cyborg.

The pathologist smirked again at the young mans reference to him as 'doc'.

As Jump City General Hospitals' resident pathologist began his magic, Cyborg decided to waste some time meandering around the mortuary.

Not a lot took the Titans' eye to begin with. The dissecting tables were as clean as humanly possible, the dissecting instruments were spotless, and he had no intention of taking a peek in any of the freezers . . . but his attention kept calling back to the body bag that was already laid on the non-vacant table.

If anyone was so riddled with curiosity that they thought something like that deserved their intervention, that person was usually BeastBoy, however, Cyborg thought it ironic that he would find himself in this position in such unimaginable circumstances.

Giving a cursory glance at Dr. Marley and ensuring that his attention was solely on Iona; Cyborg crept over to the body bag and examined the outer shell.

The bag itself certainly looked quite . . . empty. There were a few odd bumps here and there but no real indication that an entire deceased entity was encased in the bag.

With his metal fingers tantalizing hovering over the zip, Cyborg surrendered to temptation, gently gripped the zip and opened the bag until it reached the end. But it was not the sight of the bag that grabbed his immediate attention . . . it was the smell that instantly hit his nasal passages that introduced him to the contents. The incense of burnt flesh constricted Cyborg's insides; despite not having a functioning human stomach, his brain still forced him to exude a gag reflex. Whilst he did not have any human organs in his stomach, the waste product that remained in his bionic stomach maintained waste product which was his own 'unique' vomit. Eventually, he brought himself to grip the edges of the bag and . . .

Adrian saw the cybernetic Titan rush from the open body bag over to one of the many sinks that were lined up at the opposite end of the room and hurl. He gave a small snort and shook his head at the end result of Cyborg's curiosity. Calling out to the stricken hero, Adrian said, "I see that you've acquainted yourself with ol' Richie Caspar"

Turning on the tap, Cyborg cleaned out the sink, filled his mouth with water and swished and swirled the liquid in his mouth a few dozen times before spitting it out into the drain; he repeated this process many times, trying desperately to get the revolting aftertaste of vomit from his mouth.

Adrian, momentarily, ceased his work on Iona to go over to Richie's body bag and closed it. The sight of the deceased sweet shop owner did not bother him as mush as it did the Titan, primarily because he had seen much horrendous cases than Richie's limbs and strewn organs encased inside the black bag.

"Once you're finished over there, you can come and join me and I'll give you the information that I've found out about Iona . . . and uh, I recommend that you make fundamentally sure that your stomach is completely empty before you do so"

Once Cyborg had finished cleaning himself up, he turned around – shuddering at the sight of the now closed body bag – and made his way over to Adrian. Clapping his eyes on what the pathologist had done and what he was currently doing, he exclaimed, "Jeez doc . . . I don't think . . ."

Adrian had to chuckle at Cyborg sprinting back to the sinks to (hopefully) empty his robotic stomach. He made a mental note . . . _make sure you're not holding a deceased woman's brain in your hands after Cyborg has thrown up after seeing the burnt remains of another human being._

With Iona's brain still in his hands, Adrian took the organ over to the scales and placed it in the dish. Like a pendulum, the hand swung back and forth before finally settling on the accurate weight of the brain. He made a mental note of how much the brain weighed before taking it out of the dish and returning in back onto the dissecting table. He took a quick glance at Cyborg, who right now, was facing Adrian's direction, gripping the stainless steel sink, trying to steady himself. The cybernetic being's face was lathered in perspiration, drawn and hinted with a pale tint, he was panting heavily, remains of vomit strewn along the corners of his mouth, tears falling down his face, knees shaking . . . all in all, to say that he looked terrible would have been a severe understatement.

"Okay" the pathologist spoke again, "this time, make absolutely certain that you're ready before you come back over here"

Cyborg gave a low grunt in response and regained his composure. Once this was done, he let go of the sink, wobbling slightly, before taking one slow footstep after the next and reaching his desired destination.

"Cyborg, meet Iona Islington"

Milk chocolate eyes widened in horror at the sight of the tools that were strewn across the dissecting table. The blood covered scalpels, scissors, hammer, skull breaker and knife, saws and . . . a garden hedge trimmer?

Noticing that his eyes were on the hedge trimmers, Adrian picked up the garden tool, grinned beneath his surgical mask and spoke up, "I find these to be a damn sight easier to cut open the rib cage than the bone cutting forceps", snapping the trimmers once he finished this sentence.

_Cut open the rib cage? What the . . ._ Cyborg tore his eyes off of the pathologist onto the butchered body. His eyes doubled in size, his breathing stuttered and a chill swept through his entity and the sight before him. The ghastly sight of the Y-incision running from Iona's shoulders, down her mid-section, ending at her pubic bone and the skin ripped back, revealing a myriad of organs inside the old woman's body horrified that young Titan. He also noticed her rib cage had been cut in half, from the top down to the bottom; dust from her bones sprinkled over the insides of her body like a dusting of icing sugar on top of a cake. Her lungs had been cut away from her Primary bronchi and nestled back in her chest and they had been cut open. A little further up, Cyborg registered that Iona's _Vertebrate trachea_ had also been cut open, the inside of the tube showed signs of blood and a white, frothy substances layered around the tube.

Steadying himself after absorbing the grizzly show before him, Cyborg regained his composure before finally speaking, "So . . . tell me doc, what's the news?"

"Well" the pathologist pointed a gloved finger at the marks on Iona's neck, "you see this bruise on her neck, virtually on top of her windpipe?"

"Yeah"

"Classic tell-tale sign of a neck injury, possibly the result of a blunt instrument compressing hard on her neck. Next, these splotches of red and purple dots, not only on her face" Adrian went from hovering his finger over Iona's face, to taking a thumb and opening up the deceased woman's eyelid, "but also in her eyes as well. Also in addition to these dots being found in the facial area of this woman" he then turned his attention towards the lungs; returning to his hovering motion, "you can see that she has the same coloured dots scattered on her lungs; in medical terms, we call these, Petechial Hemorrhages.

"Upon further analysis, I discovered that her throat" Adrian took a pointing finger and directing the metal mans attention to Iona's throat area, "was bleeding and that in her larynx, she had a build up of foam that has formed in her airwaves, which in turn" he turned his attention back to the lungs – the parts where a scalpel had infiltrated the outer shell of the innards, "produces mucus that has formed in her lungs.

"More signs of the cause of death can be found with the heart" Cyborg glared at the once pumping organ; the graphic descriptions, in conjunction with seeing the mutilated organs up close and personal was close to forcing the cybernetic being to throw up again. Adrian continued, "After measuring the cardiac circumference, I discovered that the circumference of the heart was 450, and considering that the normal range is 300, I can tell you straight off the cuff that that heart of hers is enlarged."

"So this means . . .?"

"That the cause of death was not an accidental trip down the stairs . . . Iona was murdered. Diagnosis: deliberate asphyxiation.

With his stress levels through the roof, mixed in with early signs of exhaustion, Robin rested his face on an open palm, his elbow supported by a wooden table. His venture to Caspar's had turned out to be a waste of time. He was not allowed to enter the premises due the forensic still gathering evidence and clues as to what 'actually' caused the explosion; Robin pointed out countless times what the cause was, but all fell on deaf ears. After many attempts to get stuck into the mission at hand, it was all to no avail; primarily because Lieutenant Steve Brauner would not allow Robin to intervene and constantly reminded him that Robin was not there to intervene, he was there to 'obtain information and aide the police service in their objectives', as the 'charming' officer put it – charming used as a loose term. Steve also told the caped crusader that if he wanted new information, he was going to in for a long wait. Realising that he had hit a brick wall, Robin decided that he _had_ to occupy himself with something, discover anything that would point him into the direction of the perpetrator.

And so here he was. Steve had sent for one of his officers – a twenty-something year old officer called Chloe – to 'take young Rob-Rob here to the station, so that he can make himself useful', his wonderful rhetoric tearing through Robin like a knife through butter as he spoke.

With help from the station criminal files, Robin (again) ransacked the computers system. Record after record went rolling past his masked eyes, the countless pixels and numerous changes of colour and script – on more than one occasion – almost sent him into a slumber. After what Robin thought was the forth time – but was actually the tenth time – his eyes slumped shut and the two times that he trawled through the criminal records, he pushed himself away from the desk and rubbed his eyes vigorously, willing himself to stay awake.

"Here" a woman's voice called. Robin turned to see Chloe standing over him as she placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table along with a plate that contained a toasted bagel that had been lathered in cream cheese on top, "this'll give you some energy."

Robin thanked the young officer, took a large bite from the bagel, followed by two gulps of the muddy brown liquid. The sensation of the steaming hot drink gave him a short stab of alertness that caused him to sit up straight; whether it was the caffeine taking a quick effect in his system or that the drink scolded the insides of his mouth, he did not care. He flung himself back onto the computer and madly tapped away at the keyboard.

"There has to have been something that I'm missing. There just has to be"

Pulling up a chair, Chloe took a seat next to the young Titan and watched in what could perhaps be described as awe as she observed him pounding away at the keyboard for a third time. She could not help but be somewhat amazed at the young mans persistence.

"Any luck yet?" she said.

Robin hated being distracted whilst he was grafting away at something that he considered to be 'severe'. Begrudgingly, still tapping at the keys, tongue slightly protruding from his teeth and poking out of the corner of his mouth, he replied, "Not . . . yet . . . but hopefully . . . I'll find something soon"

"What exactly are you looking for?"

Not caring that the last time he took a mouthful of the coffee, he virtually set the insides of his mouth on fire, Robin deliberately drained the rest of the liquid from the cup and held it out for the female officer to take, "You don't mind filling this back up will you? I'm gonna need all the coffee I can get down my throat"

Slightly perturbed by what she thought was blatant rudeness on the Boy Wonders behalf, Chloe took the white mug from his green-gloved hand, stood up from the chair and replied, "Uh, yeah, sure thing"

"Thanks"

Robin watched from the corner of his eye as the female police officer made her way out of the room.

_Good, hopefully I won't get any distractions for the next five minutes. Couldn't she see that I didn't need any distractions whilst I'm working? Man, she's just as bad as Star . . ._

Robin froze during his trail of thought. His dialogue was instantaneously exchanged with the image of his red-haired girlfriend's face. Like a flashing beacon, his mind constantly reminded Batman's ex-protégé that she was currently in a comatose state and was holed in a hospital somewhere and that Raven and BeastBoy were with her. He also remembered that he had sent Cyborg to Jump City General Hospital to retrieve information on the old woman who had died at Ridenour Street.

Unclasping his communicator from his utility belt, Robin glared at the T symbol emblazed across the circular device. He weighed out two possibilities: contact either Raven or BeastBoy and ask for an update on Starfire's current condition or contact Cyborg and find out if he had unearthed anything about the deceased woman.

Contemplating his choices for another few seconds, he made his decision, flipped open the device and called into the mouthpiece . . .

"Robin calling Cyborg . . . come in Cyborg"

Moments later, Cyborg's half human half robotic face appeared on the screen, "Cyborg here"

"Did you find anything out about . . .?"

"Yeah man, I got something useful" Cyborg then dropped his voice into a whisper, "sorry for cutting you off, but I had too pretend that I knew who the woman was in order to obtain this information . . . and ended up bringing that Lieutenant into this in order to get this far"

"Great work Cy. What'cha discover?"

At the other end of the communicator, Cyborg moved over to the other side of wherever he was and resumed speaking, "Well, the old woman's called Iona Islington . . . and it turned out yours and BB's hunch was correct.

"The pathologist conducted an autopsy on Iona and found out that she didn't die falling down the stairs . . . she was strangled to death"

Robin mentally celebrated that he was correct all along.

"I've found something else that may interest you Rob"

The Boy Wonder stopped his inner jubilation and heightened his attention.

"Richie Caspar was also brought here"

Masked eyes doubled in size at this robotic mans revelation.

"Trust me when I say that it ain't a pretty sight. The poor guy ended up in what must've been about six or seven pieces. Man, I still can't get those images outta my memory. Once you've seen what I've seen, well, needless to say, they're sights that will guarantee . . ."

"Cyborg just tell me what you discovered", it was Robins turn to interrupt his colleague.

Slightly taken aback by Robin's sudden interruption, Cyborg decided, wisely, not to bite back; instead, he chose to respond to his leaders demand, "Adrian – the guy who did the autopsy – discovered traces of plastic explosive smeared on what remained of his skin and of what remained of his clothes"

Absorbing this new information, Robin now had some new leads and had every intention to use these effectively. He did not have much time to plan out his next move as Cyborg's voice became audible, "Quick question dude . . . where the hell are ya? Did ya hear what happened to Starfire?"

This caught Robin slightly off guard. How did Cyborg know about Starfire? BeastBoy? Raven? Well, whoever told him about Starfire that did not matter at this moment in time.

"Yeah, I heard what happened to Starfire. And as to where _I _am, I'm at the police station."

At this response, Cyborg's mind instantly filled with confusion, "Uh, dude, why the hell are you at the police station? Why aren't you with Starfire?"

"It's taken care of Cy. Raven told me what happened and that an ambulance had been ordered to pick Starfire up and so I ordered BeastBoy to go to where they were and go with those two to the hospital whilst I . . ."

The interrupting commenced once more with Cyborg expressing his distaste at Robin's decision, "Rob, what the hell were you thinking?"

_Oh great, _Robin whined in his mind, _first BeastBoy gets on my back about my decisions and now Cyborg._

"What do you mean 'what was I thinking'?"

"That's cold Rob, that's really cold. You're seriously saying that your girlfriend was put in a comatose state . . . and _you_ chose to _not_ go to her, and you sent BeastBoy instead? What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Exhaling heavily, Robin answered, "Cyborg, I made a decision about what I believed was the right thing to do. And . . ."

"The right thing to do? THE RIGHT THING TO DO? WHAT IN THE NAME OFF . . . "

"CYBORG! Raven and BeastBoy are with Starfire. Star will be safe. What was I supposed to do . . . go with those two as well and not follow up on something that could possibly identify the person who blew up Caspar's and killed Iona?"

Cyborg breathed excessively, trying his damndest to calm himself before replying to Robin – which took roughly thirty seconds for him to do so.

"You're unbelievable Rob. You really are. Your ego, your selfishness, your intent on finding a perpetrator is more important than your girlfriend?"

The rage from Cyborg seemed to transfer over to Robin, because this time, the Boy Wonder exploded, "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT. HOW FUCKING WELL DARE YOU SAY THAT . . ."

"Answer me this then Rob . . . if Starfire means so much to you, then why are you not at her side?"

Robin stuttered his way through an attempted explanation. Cyborg's words almost had him defeated until his brain intervened . . .

_C'mon Rob. People have been murdered. The person who killed them is still out there, still on the loose, still running around town. Who knows how many others they have killed? What the fuck does Cyborg know? You already know how important Starfire is, so why the hell are you getting so overworked about what Cy's saying? Besides, Raven and BeastBoy are with Starfire and they will inform you of any improvements and you know they will. You had no other choice._

"I don't have time for your petulance Cyborg . . . Robin out"

"Hey, don't you dare cut . . ."

Robin flipped the communicator shut and returned it to his belt; completely clueless that Chloe was standing at an open door, cup of coffee in hand.

Jump City Central Park was littered with the twittering of birds in the trees, flying in the fresh, morning sky, pecking at stale food on the floor, engaging in conversation with their fellow aviation species.

A swift zephyr kissed the leaves and the trees and they swayed as the gentleness of the wind came and went.

The beauty of nature was discourteously broken by the unearthly, high-pitched screaming of an elderly woman at the sight of a twenty-something year old, blonde female in exercise attire, splayed on the concrete pathway in a river of blood.

"Look mommy look. Look at the doggy."

"Keep away from it Simon"

"But I wanna go a stroke him" the eight-year boy whined to his mother.

"No Simon, he may bite you." the mother – Theresa was her name – stressed.

Simon's baby blue eyes widened at the sight of the burly dog whimpering at around a dingy, dreary, dark alleyway.

"But mommy, he's sad. I gonna go and say 'hi' to him"

"Simon . . . NO!"

But it was too late, the child broke from his mothers grasp and sprinted as fast as he could towards the Alsatian; his mother hurriedly chasing him, which was a struggle in high heeled shoes.

Simon saw the dog dart into the alleyway and so, fuelled on his over-activity and curiosity, he followed the German Shepherd Dog down the alleyway . . . and froze at what he saw laying in the dirty water and his head in a puddle of blood.

"Simon, what in the name of . . ."

Once Theresa saw what Simon saw, she also froze. The sight of the deceased male caused the pair of them to scream at the top of their lungs.

If The Face and his female compatriot tuned their ears fine enough, they would have heard a young mother and her child screaming in horrifying terror at the sight of Billy Wilson lying in pool of his own blood from the fatal neck wound he suffered, all thanks to his femme fatale. But the pair were so engrossed in their breakfast order of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and sauté tomatoes that they were not paying attention to the ongoing events of outside; where a scatter of individuals starting running in the direction of the screams, even a few of the customers – and the café owner and two out of the four waiting staff – bolted out of the eating establishment to see what the commotion was. It was only those two and a handful of diners that chose to stay. Both admitted that the food tasted like crap and the coffee was not decent either, but it all came to a measly six dollars and thirty nine cents, and it was food, so they really did not have much to complain about. They had quite an eventful day ahead of them and so they needed all the energy they could purchase; even if it did taste like shit.

Placing her knife and fork on the know empty plate and helping the mixture of toasted bread and egg down her throat with the aide of the coffee, _she_ asked The Face, "How do you think the Titans are coping right now?" she kept her voice at a whisper so that she was not to be heard.

Leaning back in the seat, a forkful of tomatoes in one hand, _he_ replied, "I should imagine that they are coping fine right now. Although, the same cannot be said of poor little Starfire"

Both smiled simultaneously at the mention of this. The television at the very top corner of the café was rampant about the events that had taken place in the last four-plus hours. As the video footage re-ran the scene of civilians crowding around Starfire and Raven trying desperately to break through the barrier to get to her friend and screaming her name once she saw her . . . well, the jubilation and elation that went through their bodies was indescribable.

"I'm still amazed that you stayed there and videotaped it on your phone" _he_ posed to his accomplice.

"Well, I was getting changed into the running gear to visit that pretty little slut Hannah. I hid behind one of the houses and then I heard voices that were familiar . . . all too familiar.

"When I saw Raven and Starfire standing there, I instantly thought about bolting it before they caught whiff of me. But the moment that house exploded and they went sailing through the air . . . my God" a grin a wide as humanly possible spread from ear to ear on her face "Especially when I discovered that Starfire was hurt, it was too big of an opportunity to not film it"

His tone dropped into a gravely scorn, "And you thought that it was wise to give the phone to Hilary Jenkins?"

Her eyes peered at his eye over her coffee cup.

"Knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt, that your DNA will be all over that phone, along with every message I sent you; including details of the plan and if by any chance that if the police should go sniffing for the phone . . ."

"Chillax will ya?" she derided his negativity towards her actions with a flailing hand, "Why would the police want anything to do with the phone? And don't worry, I deleted every text, there were no numbers on the phone and I removed the sim card, snapped it in two and disposed of it" she collapsed back in her seat and threw her arm over the back, "there's nothing to worry about. We're untraceable."

Of course, his accomplice had a history of cockiness, being incredibly conceited and self-assertive and he was completely the opposite. Even though he had boundless confidence in his own abilities, he was always careful, meticulous and scrupulous in his work; making sure that no stone was left turned over so that the authorities – _and the Titans – _could trace him.

Straightening himself, asserting his authoritative aura, he said, "Still, you could have been caught by the girls. It was too dangerous of a risk and I don't want you to do it again. Do you understand me?"

Waving her loose hand again, she replied, "Sure, whatever you say boss" and finished the rest of her drink.

_He_ pushed back his wavering content for his assistant before darting his eye towards the customer that just entered the single door.

"Ah, our guest has arrived"

Turning her head, she saw who she was talking about; the mental image of the persons photograph matched that of the person who just entered.

Ellie Illingworth, eighteen years of age, breezed through the café door, her blonde hair nestled underneath a red beret, lipstick coated lips that matched the colour of the flat crowned hat, her breasts virtually on show for all the world to see underneath a white low-cut top, a short denim skirt and leather boots that covered her legs all the way up to her thighs.

_She_ turned her head to look back at _him. _She could not help but notice how he was observing the teenager, admiring the 'wonderful works' of God himself . . . and she hated it.

_Oh sure, any slut who's is half decent looking and flashes her tits for any man will get eyeballed. Probably the only way the whore gets any attention._

"Not having second thoughts are you?" she slipped in the question, hoping to catch him off guard.

"Not at all" he replied, grinning at his accomplice's undeniable malignity, inundated with jealousy, "why, have you got a problem with the concept of 'look, but do not touch'?"

She seethed at the teasing in his voice, but chose not to show it, "Only when the _'thing'_ that you're looking at is _worth_ the attention in the first place"

"My, my. Are we getting a little jealous my dear? Would you prefer it if my wandering eye examined you instead of unsuspecting, little Ellie?"

"Haven't we got a job to do?"

He chuckled at the way she batted off his question. Yet, she was right. There was a job to do and the second that Ellie sat down with her glass of orange juice and dry toast, the job was officially on.

Digging into his pocket, his removed a little test tube with a cork in the top containing white powder and waved it in the air.

"I'm waiting" was all he said.

Instantly she stood up and began making her way to the door. She passed Ellie on her way, sneering at her presence before (deliberately) slipping on the floor.

The Face saw his accomplice go flying and a group of people, including Ellie, all rose from their seats to go and check on her. As _she_ was being attended to, he too rose to his feet, took one of the eating utensils that was on his table and uncorked the test tube. Approaching the table Ellie was sat at, he unloaded the white powder into her orange juice, gave it a quick stir with the utensil, stuffed the empty glass tube into his trench coat and tossed the knife in a random direction. Once the objective had been completed, he quickly returned to his table and claimed the briefcase before putting on his own act.

Pushing past the people, he tried his best to sound as worried as possible, "Excuse me, excuse me, she's with me" the people parted as he bent down towards his 'injured' colleague and placed his hand on her shoulder, "sweetheart, are you okay?"

Feigning hurt, she propped herself on an open palm and stared into his eye, "No, I'm fine. I promise dear, I'm not hurt"

"Are you sure?" the speech patterns of another person entered; _she _saw that they came from the bimbo herself, "That was a heavy fall you took" Ellie concluded.

"Thanks for your concern" _she _replied, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise out of her throat, "but I'm alright"

Helping her onto her feet, _he _took her hand, reiterated the thanks and left the café with the briefcase in one hand and hers in his other. Leading her out of the building and onto the street, they both observed the crowd that was still gathered around the alleyway where poor little Billy was still lying stone cold dead on the dirty concrete. The wailing of police sirens caused him to say, "I think that's our cue to leave"

Still holding her hand, the demonic duo began to leave Pinehurst Street.

It was about fifteen minutes later – fast approaching nine-twenty a.m. – when it registered in her mind that _he _was still holding her hand. She was not sure whether he forgot or not, but for some reason, completely clueless to the logic behind what she felt, she liked his large, strong, gloved hand gently embracing hers.

The silence between the pair of them was deafening, so she decided to break it with a question, "So, um . . . what exactly was in that envelope that you left the Titans?"

Tilting his head side to side, checking for any oncoming traffic before crossing the street, he answered, "A little invitation for our friends my dear"

Her heart fluttered at him calling her that. Calming herself, she replied "Invitation?"

"An invitation for them to be involved in a treasure hunt"

Allowing this answer to settle in her mind for a few moments, she replied, "You mean for the Titans to find us?"

Beneath the shade of his hat, he smirked. In the corner of his eye, he saw that she was aghast by this plan.

"Are you crazy?" she stopped walking, but still kept hold of his hand. "You seriously want them to find us?"

He too stopped walking and looked into her brown eyes – that were still containing the brown coloured contact lenses, "Now, now, it wouldn't be fair for the Titans to have no chance it solving this mystery.

"If they're lucky enough, they will get front row seats for the grand finale. Do you not agree that having the Titans join us for when that moment arrives will be much more satisfying? Seeing their faces for when they witness the masterpiece that I have planned?"

The cogs in her mind began falling into place and turning without a hitch as she saw the genius logic behind his answer. One more encounter with the Titans would be an exhilarating prospect . . . _and then they'll be picked off one by one, just like the rest of them._

"You know, you have no idea how glad I am to be a part of history" she said.

"I think I have a pretty good idea"

A short walk later, they had reached _her_ apartment. Inside were the instruments and the information that were required for the next few hours.

Suddenly, she felt her hand go cold. Looking down, she realised that he had let go of her hand and now it was placed behind his back.

"Just to clarify my dear" there it was again, the fluttering in her heart, "I completely forgot that I held your hand from the café to the apartment" he took a key out of his trouser pocket and inserted it into the lock, "so don't read too much into that. . . this is strictly business"

**END OF CHAPTER NINE**

_Reading Recommendations (all Christmas themed) . . ._

_One Christmas Eve by beautifulpurpleflame . . . The Titans are all invited to the Mayor's annual Christmas Ball, all are excited to go . . . except for one (guess who that person is). After Raven is convinced by BeastBoy to go, will she end up having a nice night out? And what will the consequences of her coming result in at the end of the day._

_Tis the season by BlueTitan . . . a poem inspired by an iconic X-Mas poem, this is a self-penned piece written by another talented author. A romantic rhyming song that is sure to ignite the Christmas fire in anyone._

_The Spirit of Christmas Titan by Scribbler . . . crossing over the state, Titans East are celebrating the season too. However, faced with psychotic animal rights activists, killer fairy lights and their ever disappearing leader . . . it looks as thought Christmas for Bumblebee and the gang is going to be ruined. Every Christmas needs a good laugh and this is one to check out._

_As I sit here with a beer, fully satisfied after a filling dinner; still wearing the Christmas hat that you get from the crackers, I wanna take time to thank everyone who has been following this story right from the start, reviewing the chapters, adding to your favourites, subscribing et cetera . . . and for your ongoing support and your kind words; it's only fair to thank those (individually) for your generosity, so (in alphabetical order) . . ._

_.Es_

_Commander Lagasse_

_Coopercrisp_

_Draugeltheshadowhero_

_E._

_Eaglewolf05_

_Everydaydude_

_FelynxTiger_

_Fishy9494_

_Helikesitheymikey_

_Master Doc_

_MathiasMatt_

_Mors101_

_Moving Mountains_

_Novus Ordo Seclorum_

_Oracle in Vayne_

_Renting_

_Sandjewel_

_SchallhornM_

_shugokage_

_spartan585_

_Spotteh_

_stella-s55_

_TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne_

_xoxSamIAmxox_

_Your support has inspired me to keep this story going and it's because of you guys that makes this story the (moderate) success it is._

_Thank You very much, to you, and to all the other readers._

_Please, read, review (even if you're bitter this X-Mas and just want to vent your anger by flaming this story go ahead), favourite, subscribe et cetera . . ._

_And finally, from me to you, Merry Christmas and I hope you have enjoyed your Christmas; or if you are across the ocean, I hope that you enjoy your Christmas Day and overload on luscious foods and alcohol._

_And let's hope that 2011 is a joyous and prosperous year for all of us._


	11. Chapter 10: It's Chaos Out There

**CHAPTER TEN – It'****s Chaos Out There**

_**Time:**__ 9:03:03 a.m._

Taking more time in consuming the coffee that Chloe had made, Robin took careful sips instead of the large mouthfuls. The searing liquid travelling down his throat and settling in his stomach soothed the uneasiness that he felt after his heated altercation with Cyborg.

Chloe had reached the room the moment Robin exploded at Cyborg after he questioned the Boy Wonder's decision to _not_ be at Starfire's side after her accident. After Robin had ended the transmission, Chloe hurriedly placed the coffee cup on the table which Robin sat at, created an excuse that she had some paperwork that needed to be completed but to come and find her if he needed anything else. She practically flew out of the room before the Titan had a chance to thank her for the drink or the offer.

No matter how hard he tried to force Cyborg's words out of his mind, they just stuck like glue. What really vexed him was that his robotic friend actually had the audacity to doubt his (Robin's) concern about Starfire . . .

'_. . . __Your ego, your selfishness, your intent on finding a perpetrator is more important than your girlfriend? . . .'_

'_. . . If Starfire means so much to you, then why are you not at her side? . . .'_

Those words hung in Robin's head, almost taunting him, antagonizing him, provoking him to snap again and drive his fist through the wall.

Scathingly, Robin growled beneath his breath, "How dare he make the assumption that I don't care for Starfire? Who the hell does he think he is? He has absolutely no idea . . . no idea what-so-fucking-ever, just how much Starfire means to me. He doesn't even know that today, I . . ."

He froze in mid-sentence. He had just reminded himself of what today was. It was _the_ day. The day that he had been planning for weeks. He had everything mapped out . . . but it had been ruined. All of last night, even as he slept with the Tamaranian huddled up next to him, his thoughts repeated everything that was supposed to happen to day, everything that he was going to say, the build-up to it . . .

Ruined.

Robin, at first, did not realise the tears that were forming underneath his mask, threatening to fall from his eyes and down his cheeks.

_This wasn't supposed to happen. Today was supposed to be perfect. Today was supposed to be special. But now . . . now . . ._

"Robin . . . Robin . . . Robin, wake up"

The muffled voice of a woman filled Robin's ears. He snapped out of his depression and saw through tear filled eyes – thankfully, none had escaped from his mask – Chloe was back at the door, looking as though she was very eager to leave the precinct.

"Huh . . . sorry Chloe. What's wrong?"

"I said that we've received a call from Jump City Central Park. Aparently, a female called the station with a report saying that she discovered a young female lying in a pool of blood with a stab wound in her stomach"

Robin was practically in a state of severe disbelief. This was now the fourth death reported within the last five hours . . . _Just what the hell is going on? And who the hell is doing this?_

Chloe continued, "I thought that you may be interested in tagging along. Having you help will for sure be incredibly useful to us"

_Well, no matter how many times I go through the criminal records, I'm still coming up with a blank slate, so . . . _"Sure thing, I can help"

Neglecting to finish the remainder of the coffee or the bagel that showed one indentation of a bite mark, Robin sprung out of his seat, joined Chloe and began the walk along the hallways. Pushing through a set of double doors, Robin noticed that three more officers followed them as they made their way to the front entrance.

Before Robin, Chloe and the three other officers could leave the building, a woman's voice bellowed out from behind the fivesome.

"Hey! Chloe!"

Chloe turned herself to face the desk clerk; the other three officers plus Robin did the same.

"What's up Trish?"

Trish, a mid-thirty year old with poufy brown hair, little to no make-up applied to her face and a uniform that was struggling to encage her obese frame answered, "I just got another call from someone from Pinehurst Street. According to the guy who called, some woman and her kid found a dude dead in an alleyway with a stab wound in his neck"

On cue, Chloe lifted her head to the ceiling and let out a deep sigh before vocalizing her abject disbelief in this revelation rhetorically, "This day just keeps getting better doesn't it?

"Right. Officers Benson and Antwhistle, you're not doing anything are you?" she caught the attention of two male officers who were lounging around the reception next to the water dispenser.

"Um, uh . . ." one of the officers stumbled before Chloe answered on their behalf . . .

"Good, you two are coming with us. O'Reilly, Walker" she commanded to the female and male officers who were in conversation with one another, "you two can also make yourselves busy by joining us"

Being more enthusiastic by the demand than the other two officers, O'Reilly and Walker joined the huddle of officers; Benson and Antwhistle shortly joined.

"Right ladies and gentlemen. We've got two situations on our hands at this moment in time. Whatever you have to do for the rest of the day, forget about that, because I need all the teamwork that you lot can muster for today, okay? Good, now . . ."

Standing a few footsteps out from the group, Robin stood back in awe at the female officers blunt instructions. From someone who looked virtually harmless on the outside, a tough, straight-to-the-point, confident woman was now emerging; Robin was impressed to say the least.

"O'Reilly, Gershwin, Stevenson and Stanley" Chloe picked off each officer one by one, "you four will go the Jump City Central Park. Secure the area, make sure that the body is secured before an ambulance arrives and find the person who phoned the station; to clarify, you're looking for a . . ." Chloe took her notebook from her back pocket, flipped through a few pages before stabbing her finger onto her desired page, " . . . _Miriam Stimpson_. Find her, bring her back here and take a full statement from her, understood?"

All four officers responded to Chloe's orders before breaking away to go to their destination.

"The rest of you: Benson, Antwhistle, Walker and . . . Robin" Chloe again, picked off the officers and the lone Titan lastly, "we're off to Pinehurst Street. Again, we'll secure the body until an ambulance shows up, take any statements, find the people who discovered the body and look for any CCTV that will help us in this investigation, are we clear?"

"Crystal" the three officers replied to Chloe.

"Alright, let's move"

As the four police officers piled out of the front door, Chloe noticed that they were one short. Her eyes went over to the only person who had held back.

"You coming or not Robin?"

Snapping out of his state of veneration at the female officer, Robin came back into reality. To him, Chloe did not look older than someone in her mid-twenties, which was one of the reasons he was not interested in her assistance other than to re-fill a coffee mug, but seeing this angelic looking woman – the type that you would not expect to say 'boo' to a goose – command a batch of burly, mid-forty year old man and stern, stone faced woman, certainly made him see her in a different light,

"Uh, yeah, sure, I'm coming"

Finding the Titans' baffled expression kind of amusing, Chloe said, "I'm guessing Steve didn't tell you that I'm a Sergeant?"

"Uh, no"

Tittering, Chloe entered back into 'Sergeant' mode, "Well, we can't stand here all day, we gotta get going."

After Dr. Adrian Marley had finished writing up the reports for both Richie Caspar and Iona Islington and handed both documents to Cyborg – under the illusion that Cyborg would be giving them to Lieutenant Steve Brauner – the cybernetic being had made his way over to the hospital cafeteria. Sat at a rickety plastic wooden, sat on an even ricketier wooden chair, he had a large plate filled with an order of bacon, sausages, toast and hash browns, a much smaller plate to right contained two bagels with small sachets of butter next to them, a cup of coffee and tall glass of fresh orange juice.

Chocolate brown eyes surveyed the half eaten plate of food on the plate, the only uneaten, dry bagel, half drunk orange juice and untouched coffee that had gone cold long ago. If he was being truthful, he was too riled up to consume the rest of his breakfast because he was still seething after his heated discussion with Robin.

No matter how hard he thought about the Boy Wonder's words, the more he was dumfounded by his leader's blatant lack of concern for the Tamaranian. Did he even care about Starfire?

_Well, clearly he doesn't. He's shown that finding a criminal is more important than the person he supposedly loves._

He ran his hands roughly across his face before pushing away the plates of uneaten food. He could not remember a time where he felt this low. He was feeling slightly fatigued despite being four-fifths charged; he was not sure whether he was still suffering from his experience in the morgue or because of the severe frustration that he felt after the confrontation.

It took about fifteen seconds for the crimson-haired paramedic to finally snap the cybernetic superhero out of his stupor.

"Excuse me, Cyborg?" Angela Starr gave the Titan a small nudge on his shoulder.

Cyborg pulled his face from his hands and looked into the hazel eyes of the young paramedic and answered, "Huh?"

"Are you here for Starfire?"

"St-Starfire's here?"

"Yeah, didn't you know . . .?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that she was injured. I've been here for about two hours concerning something else."

"Oh, okay. Well, Starfire's currently in ICU. Raven and BeastBoy are with her; I can take you to her room if you'd like?"

Rising rather quickly from his seat, Cyborg replied, "Yeah, please, that is if you're not busy?"

"Of course not"

Moments ago, BeastBoy's and Raven's spirits were incredibly depleted, but now, they had been lifted. Dr. Eric Lloyd had re-emerged from Starfire's room a few moments after Raven had asked her green teammate about Robin's whereabouts and alerted the superheroes that the Tamaranian had woken up.

As though the pair of them had sat on hot coals, the empath and changeling shot out of their seats, barged pass the doctor and froze at the moment they clapped eyes on their friend.

Starfire slowly moved her head, wincing at the pain, and greeted her friends with a weak smile. "Greetings friends" These were the only two words that left her mouth; they were spoken through a shallow, silent whisper. Despite feeling like shit, she was not going to let her friends see her in discomfort. She was a warrior of Tamaran. Even in injury or near death, she was not going to show her pain; she would show her friends that she _was _strong . . . she _is_ strong. Even as her green skinned 'brother' ran to her bed, eyes as red as Tamaran's seven moons, sobbing loudly; tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she would not allow this to happen.

She was a warrior of Tamaran. She _is_ strong.

As BeastBoy took Starfire's hand into his own, he said, "Hey Star. How're ya doing?"

Maintaining the strained whisper, she replied, "I'm . . . what is that saying again? . . . The 'correct as precipitation'"

BeastBoy could not help but exclaim a small chortle at the orange-skinned girl's misuse of sayings. She had been on Earth now for around four years and still, she had yet to grasp the English vernacular properly.

"It's 'right as rain'"

Starfire gave another weak smile and thanked BeastBoy for correcting her. Her emerald orbs shifted from her green teammate to the grey-skinned heroine. She noticed Raven stoicism as well the windows of her room being encased in black energy. Starfire was more than aware that Raven had severe difficulties in containing her emotions but had got better as the years had gone by, but clearly, whatever emotion she was trying to suppress at this moment in time, she was struggling. She called over to the empath, "Raven", lifting her free hand as though she was pleading for the empath to join her.

Taking a steady pace, Raven walked over to the bed stricken alien, all the while taking a small stumble here or there. Sorrow was an emotion that she struggled with immensely. Feeling other people's sadness only gave her a slight headache, her own sorrow on the other hand was a completely different kettle of fish altogether. Eventually, she made it to the Tamaranian's bedside and held her other hand, gently stroking it as she did so.

"Friend Raven, where am I? How did I get here?"

Raven would be lying to herself right now if she said that she had not prepared herself for this moment. Replaying the moments that led to Starfire being holstered up in Jump City General Hospital, Raven told her friend everything: landing at Steinhouse Avenue, a house exploding out of nowhere, hitting her head against a fire hydrant and being brought to the hospital.

Once Raven had finished re-telling the events that led to Starfire ending up in hospital, the Tamaranian's eyes drew immediately to the outside of the hospital room; the windows had finished having a taste of Raven's black energies. Outside, she saw a female paramedic accompanied by . . .

"Cyborg?"

The changeling and empath looked quizzically at the Tamaranian before turning their heads to watch the cybernetic being push through the double doors.

With a grin on his face . . . a forced grin, Cyborg exclaimed, "Thought you could start the reunion without me eh?"

Clearly not seeing past the façade, BeastBoy cracked a laugh at the 'bag of nuts and bolts', Raven acknowledged his presence with a small smile and Starfire beamed at his entrance.

"Hey Star" Cyborg greeted the Tamaranian as he walked up to her bed, stood next to BeastBoy and caringly placed his metal hand on Starfire's head.

"Cyborg. It is wondrous to see you again?" Starfire replied.

"Yeah dude, nice seeing ya again. Where've ya been?" BeastBoy's voice chirped.

Turning his head to look at the shape shifter, Cyborg elevated the two files that he held in his hands and responded, "Doing what I was asked to do"

Cyborg further explained that the files contained reports of the autopsies conducted on Richie Caspar and Iona Islington, informing his three teammates that she was the woman they discovered on Ridenour Street, and confirming that Iona had in fact been strangled to death.

"How did you know where to find us?" Raven's voice entered the mix this time.

A pang of ache hit Cyborg at this question. Whilst he was happy to learn that Starfire was at the same hospital he was in, he would have preferred it if his colleagues . . . no, his friends . . . no, his family, had told him instead of a paramedic.

"One of the paramedics who brought Starfire to the hospital showed me to this room"

"AH dude, sorry man. We completely forgot to call you"

_Well, you knew that I was at the same hospital. How the hell could you forget?_ was what Cyborg was incredibly tempted to say, but he held his tongue.

At the other end of the bed, Raven was awash with the self-confliction that Cyborg was feeling right now; it was registering as a form of emotional distress. Why? For what reason was he feeling low? On the surface, he was he traditional, smiling self, but beneath the surface . . .

"Friends" Starfire called. The three heroes looked down at the Tamaranian as she asked the question that they all wished that she was not going to ask, "Where is Robin?"

Black high heels clicked against the concrete as thirty-seven year old Neiva Lesley broke out in a small jog on her way to her destination. She had been distracted earlier as she was caught up in a crowd that surrounded an alleyway where, apparently, a man had been stabbed to death. No matter how hard she tried to sneak a peak, there were too many people that had congregated around the alleyway, so ultimately, she gave up and left to go to work.

Checking her wristwatch, she had thirty seconds left until nine-forty-five; otherwise she would be docked pay. She made her living being self-employed as a house cleaner and the man who had asked her to clean his apartment said that he would pay her 'handsomely', more than double of what she charged to be precise, if she would do the job; if she was late, then she would be turned away. She had been called roughly half an hour ago and whilst she did not work Sunday's, she was not going to turn down more than double her fee and so, she had literally rushed from her home to get to this apartment; she was now really regretting wearing high heels.

Finally, Neiva reached the apartment and rang on the doorbell. Through the intercom, a male voice crackled through the electronic device, "Yes?"

Her Spanish tinted voice answered, "This is Neiva sir, the cleaner that you required?"

"Ah, right on time as well" the sound of a buzzer ran.

Reacting to the buzzer, Neiva pushed open the wooden door and closed it behind her. She climbed one flight of stairs before being greeted by a stern looking gentleman standing at an open doorway. The immediate thing she noticed about the man was the eye patch that covered his left eye, his right eye a glistening pool of blue, white hair that matched the short beard and wore a suit that looked as though it cost quite a bit of money as well.

"I apologise mister. You will not believe what happened out in the street" her Spanish tongue contained intermission of panting as she entered the living room that looked . . . surprisingly clean?

"There's no need to apologise Ms. Lesley. You were not late and that's all that matters"

Turning to face the towering gentleman, she replied, "Thank you very much mister . . . uh . . ."

"Wilson"

Neiva made a mental note the name before turning back on the room.

"So, exactly what rooms do you need cleaned?"

Mr. Wilson shut the apartment door. He slid the deadbolt across before turning back on the cleaning woman.

"Mr. Wil- . . ." Neiva turned to face the gentleman who returned her look with a cold, sharp, unemotional glare, like jagged ice.

"Um, Mr. Wilson, I hope you don't think of me as rude, but does this apartment really need cleaning?"

"Cleaning?"

"Yes, that's why you called me. I am a cleaner after all"

A low, rumbling chuckle filled Mr. Wilson's throat before he replied, "Do you remember our little conversation over the phone?"

What the hell was this? Some sort of childish joke?

"Of course I do. You phoned me no more than forty-five minutes ago and you said that you wanted me to come here."

"Precisely, for you to 'come here' . . . I never said anything about you coming here to clean."

Neiva started to panic slightly . . . actually, she started shaking. She had read about these kinds of things all the time in the newspaper, but she never thought that this kind of thing would happen to her. Instinct suddenly kicked in as she ran into the kitchen that was only a few feet away, pulled open a few drawers before taking a bread knife out of the last drawer she opened.

With her voice going up an octave, she squealed, "You . . . you stay away from me you sick bastard."

Smiling evilly, Mr. Wilson took one step closer to the cleaner; cackling at the sight of her clumsily pointing the knife in his direction.

With her attention solely fixed on the madman, Neiva shifted herself around the room slowly; not once taking her unblinking eyes off him.

"Stay away or I swear on my life I will stab you" her rattling voice shrieked through the four walls.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her back. Moving her eyes from the white haired man, she looked down at her chest; gasping in terror at the sight of a glint of metal sticking through the left side of her chest, a river of red staining her beige sweater and flowing down her trousers.

The second thing she felt was a shallow breath next to her right ear as a female voice whispered, "From where I'm standing, it's your life".

_She_, sharply, removed the knife that had pierced her heart and watched in pleasure as the cleaner dropped to her knees, gasped for her last drops of oxygen before collapsing on the laminate floorboards.

She stared at the lifeless woman for what felt like an hour but in reality was only ten seconds with a stony glare, almost hypnotic, before being brought out of her daze by _his _voice.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I say that you liked this work a little _too_ much"

With the same emotionless glare etched on her face, she replied, "Like you said . . . this is strictly business" before turning on her heel and concluding her dialogue, "I'm having a shower, don't bother me"

Mr. Wilson only watched as his assistant stormed off into the bathroom, as smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

She took a total of twelve minutes in the shower before deciding to finish. Within that time she spent relishing in the refreshing sensation of clean water ridding her body of the morning grittiness, she stewed in her own inner anger.

She was still pissed off at his last words before they entered the apartment.

Finishing with the towel she used to dry her hair, she threw it carelessly onto the uncarpeted floor where her crumpled heap of clothes she had removed lay and strode over to the wardrobe. Opening the plastic, mirrored doors, she stared at the solitary garments that hung, untouched on the plastic hangers; navy blue jeans, white t-shirt, ankle high white socks and black, lacy bra and underwear.

She removed each article of clothing and placed them on one by one. Still, she could not ignore the simmering anger that still bore in the pit of her stomach. Before she had chance to slip her shoes back on, she felt an icy thrill travel up and down her spine. She turned her head she noticed the one, solitary eye peering through the crack in the door.

"Never had you down as a peeping Tom" she snipped at Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson could not help but exclaim a small cackle from underneath his breath, barely audible. Slowly, he pushed the door open and step by step, inch by inch, he made his way over to the young woman.

She kept telling herself, over and over, chanting it as though it was some sort of mantra . . .

_You're mad with him. You're mad with him. You're mad with him . . ._

However, she could not stop the sweet shiver that ran through her body as he ran an open palm across the top right side of her head; brushing away the strand of blonde hair that covered her eye.

As he took away his hand, he swore that he saw a sparkle in her eyes after the moment of physical contact. Smirking underneath his mask, he broke the silence, "We have to leave my dear"

There it was again, the slight trembling in her knees at him calling her 'dear'. He turned to walk back to the briefcase on the table, stepping over Neiva's body in the process, as she gently touched her face; the part were his gloved hand had touched, up to the hair clip that he put in her blonde locks.

_Maybe . . . maybe he . . ._

There was a certain softness in his stare as he placed the clip in her hair; she was absolutely convinced of that. It was that subtlety that made her walls on anger cave in. The feelings that she felt on their way to the apartment re-surfaced and encased her entire being.

_Surely he knows by now._

"Officer, can you tell what has happened?"

"We have witnesses saying that a man has been killed in that alleyway down . . ."

"Please stay behind the cordon . . . and _no _comment"

"Is the person a man called William Wilson?"

"Does this have anything to do with the events of earlier this morning?"

"What about Hannah Young? The girl that was found in Jump City Central Park? What can you say . . .?"

"Again, no comment. Now, if you could please . . ."

"Do you have any suspects at this moment in time?"

"Are these murders linked in any way?"

"Officer, do you have any news on any of the other individuals who have been murdered?"

"No question will be answered until we have answers. And for the last time . . . Oi!"

Robin and Chloe looked on as Ash Benson, Orlando Antwhistle and Kirsty Walker attempted to keep newscasters, cameramen, paparazzi and pedestrians back behind the yellow and black police cordon . . . and one cameraman broke away from the crowd before being rugby tackled by Kirsty of all people.

Robin scoffed in surprise at the sight of five-foot-one Kirsty Walker tackling a two-hundred and thirty pound monstrosity of a cameraman down to the ground whilst Ash and Orlando looked on in . . . wonder? Astonishment? Embarrassment? All of the above?

As Kirsty dragged the obese man off the ground by the scruff of his t-shirt – rather roughly Robin would freely admit – The Boy Wonder turned his attention to the opposite end of the street where an ambulance had just arrived.

Moments later, two paramedics piled out of the vehicle to retrieve the body. Chloe pointed them in the direction of the deceased.

Roughly a minute later, the paramedics wheeled the dead body of Billy Wilson out of the alleyway; his body had been covered with a blanket due to the lack of a body bag.

Before making their was back to the vehicle, one of the paramedics approached Chloe and handed her an envelope and said, "This was found on the mans body"

Chloe was about to take the envelope before realising that she was not wearing anything to protect her hands. No way was she going to corrupt what was clearly evidence.

Taking the initiative – and because his hands were gloved – Robin took the envelope from the male paramedic and thanked him. He waited for the paramedics to leave before he thought about opening it.

He turned the envelope and stared at the front. His masked eyes registered the red T that was etched on the document. Feeling around the envelope, he felt a circular object buried down in the bottom left hand corner. Wracked with curiosity, he tore down the centre of the envelope and tilted it until the object fell into his free hand.

"Robin, what are you doing?" Chloe was confused by the hero's actions.

As his heart before to pick up in speed, he answered, "I don't think this is for the police Chloe . . . I think this is for the Titans"

As he spoke, his eyes were glued to the object the lay on the green glove . . . a small CD. Instinctively, he knew exactly what to do with the disc. He took out his communicator and opened the flap. Next, he pressed the bottom of the communicator, where a small compartment opened; the appropriate size for the CD to fit. He placed the disc into the compartment and closed it.

The screen ceased showing a fuzzy screen as a video clip began playing. Robin's heart almost stopped beating when the screen showed the figure standing in front of the camera that shot the clip.

"_Greetings Titans"_

Beneath a low, guttural rumble, Robin breathed out the name that he hated more than any other name in the world, the name that filled his throat with so much bile that it threatened to choke him, the name that he would stop at nothing to rid Jump City of . . .

"Slade!"

The orange and black clad ex-assassin continued speaking.

"_I can only apologize for not being there in person to greet you, but as usual, I am a very busy man and I do have a lot of work on my plate already.__ Since it has probably registered in your minds already, I'll just go ahead and reiterate. The man that you have just found in the alleyway . . . I am responsible for his death. I am also responsible for the death of the other individuals that you have discovered: Richie Caspar, Iona Islington, Saira Thurman, Hannah Young, Bill Wilson, Ellie Illingworth . . . all of them have fallen due to my hand. And more will follow . . . I guarantee it._

"_However, I can assure that these are not senseless killings. These people have died for a reason, they have died for a purpose, they have died for something much greater than them. I have no doubt that you'll discover that reason long before the twenty-four hours, but until then, I invite you to partake in a little treasure hunt._

"_You see, I thought that it would be unfair for you to go gallivanting around the city all day long, not knowing where to go or who to look for. I am confident that you will find me before the twenty-four hours are over. Of course, I'm not going to tell you where I am . . . you already know _that _answer. You might not know it yet, but soon . . . like a firework . . . it'll burst in your mind and you will come running to get me._

"_But until that time comes" _the screen changed from Slade's image to a map with a red dot flashing and an address above the dot, _"the image you are looking at right now is where the next golden coin lays." _The image changed again and showed the picture of a Spanish looking woman, _"May I introduce you to Mrs. Neiva Lesley, thirty-seven years of age, a single mother to a thirteen month old boy . . . she is currently located at the destination showed previously" _the flashing dot and address on the map returned, _"she is currently at this location. However, she does not have much time left. At ten a.m., Neiva will perish . . . that is, if you have received this message on time."_

Slade's cackle filled the airwaves as his figure returned on the communicators screen and concluded, _"I look forward to seeing you soon."_

The screen cut out and returned to its fuzzy state.

Robin glared at his communicator in shock. He experienced a numerous range of emotions: anger, repulsion, confusion, fear, hate . . .

He started to run.

Chloe looked on as the Boy Wonder broke off into his mad sprint. She had been standing over his shoulder as he watched the illustrious Slade address the Titans, provoking them, taunting them, challenging them . . . challenging them to find him.

The police sergeant returned her thoughts back to the message.

_That maniac said that those people died for a reason. What reason? What the hell is he planning? __And who the hell is: Iona Islington and Ellie Illingworth?_

Ash Benson knocked Chloe out of her moment of thought, "Sergeant Maxwell!"

Turning her attention to her fellow officer, she acknowledged her name, "Yes. Officer Benson?"

"We've got another problem on our hands?"

"Tell me about it"

"Huh?"

"Sorry Officer. What's the problem?"

Exhaling deeply, Ash replied, "We've got another dead body in a café a quarter of a mile down the road"

***MEANWHILE***

Robin had long ejected the disc from his communicator, slipped the disc into the back pocket of his tights and was now sprinting like mad to the destination on the map; communicator in hand. After removing the disc, he checked the time via the communicator and saw that he had less than four minutes until Slade's words became true. Once the disc was out, he programmed the location where Neiva was and saw that he was over half a mile from where he needed to go.

With his eyes alternating between the devices screen and to where he was going, he picked up his pace.

His determination in saving this Neiva Lesley was mashed with the message that Slade had left behind. A lot of it was typical Slade-talk; what with his taunting dialogue, intimidating aura, dark, cackling voice, but a lot of his message did not make a lick of sense. His mind kept playing back bits and pieces of his speech . . .

'_. . . all of them have fallen due to my hand. And more will follow . . .'_

'More will follow?' More people are going to be killed? Why? For what reason was he killing these people for? This was nothing like Slade's previous schemes. Robin knew that Slade had had a gruesome history in Gotham City long before he changed directions and came to Jump City, but everything that he did in Jump always centred solely on the Titans, never around civilians. So why the sudden change in tactic? What exactly was his motivation?

'_These people have died for a reason, they have died for a purpose, they have died for something much greater than them'_

'Died for a purpose?' No matter what the reasoning, no matter the intention or the motivation behind a person's logic, Robin always believed that no one had the right to take a life; the sole, solitary reason that he was staunchly against the death penalty. If that was one thing that he hated about California, the death penalty was legal.

'_. . . __you'll discover that reason long before the twenty-four hours'_

That piece stumped him. Twenty-four hours? If Slade had said 'by the end of the day', then that would have made more sense, but twenty-four hours?

'_I am confident that you will find me before the twenty-four hours are over' _

Again with the twenty-four hours. Why the twenty-four hours? What the hell was Slade planning within those twenty-four hours?

'_I'm not going to tell you where I am . . . you already know _that _answer'_

The Titans knew where Slade was hiding? Well, Robin knew for a fact the he and the rest of the team had no clue where Slade was. There had been sightings of Slade seven months ago and despite countless searches of these locations, the Titans and the authorities came up short.

_Do I really know where he his? Is he telling the truth? Then again, this _is _Slade . . ._

One final sentence that puzzled The Boy Wonder was . . .

'_. . . soon . . . like a firework . . . it'll burst in your mind and you will come running to get me'_

Robin greatly noted the deliberate pause and the choice of adjective. It was almost as though Slade had chosen that descriptive term for a reason. Out of all the other words he could have used, Slade chose 'firework', why? Was this a clue or was Robin being paranoid?

Robin almost did not notice that he had arrived at the apartment where Neiva was held captive.

He broke into such a fast sprint; it would have put Kid Flash to shame. Perspiration was flowing like a river down his face, his breathes were becoming shorter, laboured, painful, he muscles were aching with every movement he made. He was eating up the centimetres rapidly . . .

_I'm almost there . . ._

_I'm almost there . . ._

_I'm almost there . . ._

***BOOM***

The thunderous sound of the explosion sent fire, wood, smoke, debris, glass . . . everything flying everywhere. Robin ceased his sprint and instinctively dived on the concrete floor, avoiding the spray of wreckage. Instantly, he felt the intensity of the fire hit him with full force; Robin truly believed that his skin was literally melting off his bones.

Not knowing how much time had passed, he removed his masked stare from the protection of his arm and looked up the flaming wreckage.

One word entered his mind as he stared upon the flames of hell. The word that he point blank refused to use in order to describe himself . . .

_Failure._

**END OF CHAPTER TEN**

_No, I'm not dead, I'm alive and well._

_I've had this chapter finished for a while now but just neglected to get it posted. Plus, I haven't written up any proceeding chapters. Been very busy with university and have just dried up on creativity._

_Not to worry, I'll do my best to have another chapter up by the end of the month. I'll be away for a week by Monday, but will get back to writing as soon as possible._

_Until next time . . ._


	12. Author's note

To anybody out there who may read this,

First of all, my apologies for being away for such a long time. Secondly, apologies for promising to post Chapter 11 on a specific day and failing to live up to that promise. And thirdly, sorry to keep you all who reviewed a chapter or contacted me and haven't received replies . . . and those who have waited for the following chapter.

Needless to say that the last year and a half for me in my personal life has been the most trying times of my life. What with completing the last year of my university course, dealing with a personal related issue which caused much distress and trying to find employment after and during these times; all which culminated in a depressive state where I had zero motivation to do anything or speak to anyone.

However, I can gladly say that these times have passed, I am in a much happier place than I was last year, am finally in employment and best of all, I feel I'm ready to return to the FanFiction and complete All In A Day.

Being away for a long time, 'm assuming that interest in the FanFic community has diminished. Nevertheless, seeing that I started a story that a few of you out there have enjoyed and have left some appreciative and positive remarks, I feel obligated to come back and complete this story. Even if no-one reads it or reviews any upcoming chapters, the feeling alone that I have accomplished completing a story and that there are people out there who have read what I have written is fulfilling in its own right; even if I don't write anything else after this.

I will have to refresh myself with what I've written - I still know where I want the story to go but it's just remembering the current line of characters and what has happened; I have been away for nearly two years - but once that's done, I should hopefully have a chapter up in April and hopefully will be releasing two chapters a month at the very least.

Until Chapter 11 turns up, hope you all have been well and have had a better 2012 than I did.

Until next time,

GreenRock


	13. Chapter 11: It Only Gets Worse From Here

**Chapter 11: It Only Gets Worse From Here**

_10.00 am_

Through the window, Cyborg watched with anguish at the sight of the Tamaranian's continuous protests against the female paramedic – who he found out later was called Angela Starr – trying to persuade her to calm down and not get out of her bed whilst Raven tried to help as best as she could. After Starfire had asked her friends about Robin's whereabouts, none of them were too eager to answer her question. Eventually, Raven took the lead and responded by telling the heroine that Robin was not at the hospital, which was followed by a painstaking explanation about what had happened during the time the Tamaranian was unconsciousness. The collective un-comfortableness was only intensified as the three watched Starfire's expression only worsen through every word the empath uttered. With tears stinging her eyes, the Tamaranian wept. Raven went to comfort her only to be struck with Starfire's sudden insistence that she wanted to leave the hospital immediately. Despite the insistence from her friends that she needed to remain in the bed since suffering a bad concussion, Starfire's protests only increased. In a panic, BeastBoy hit the emergency call button which caused Angela to come rushing in. Through her insistence, Raven told the changeling and half-man half-robot to leave as she thought that she would probably be the best person to calm her down. The guys did not even put up a fight and followed the empath's orders.

As the Tamaranian's muffled protests filled the empty air, Cyborg joined his green comrade who was sat in one of the chairs. BeastBoy's posture was hunched, his gloved hands covering his face, hiding his frustration and exhaustion. Cyborg caught a small smirk crawling up the corners of BeastBoy's mouth followed by a small shake of his head. "Ya know that Dick sent me here?"

Cyborg's expression turned into one of puzzlement. BeastBoy only ever called Robin 'Dick' on two separate occasions; the first if he was making a snarky comment about his leader and the second was if Robin had genuinely pissed the green hero off. Cyborg didn't need a nanosecond to come to his conclusion as to which occasion this was.

The changeling continued, "I actually questioned him about his decision of putting the mission before Starfire and . . ." repulsion spread over BeastBoy's face ". . . he had the balls to call me selfish?"

"Dude. What'cha say?" Cyborg asked.

BeastBoy recounted the whole thing; Raven contacting them about what happened to her and Starfire, Robin's orders, how he confronted Robin about his decision and how Robin turned back on him went off to Caspar's.

Cyborg's face expressed disillusion whilst the changeling narrated the earlier events of this day. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could tell that Robin could be self-centred, especially when it came to a mission of grand proportions, but if what BeastBoy was saying was true, then Robin had completely surpassed his scale of self-centeredness and had catapulted into another universe.

Once BeastBoy had finished his recollection, empty air occupied the space for quite some time – discounting the echoes in the hallways and the display that was still going on in Starfire's room – before Cyborg broke the silence; his voice mirrored the disbelief that was etched on his face.

"What? Seriously dude?"

BeastBoy responded with a nod of his head.

Cyborg raised his head towards the ceiling, slightly shaking his head before continuing, "Damn, I knew that guy could be a prick but even so man, that's low even for him."

BeastBoy picked up the half eaten banana he was eating before he went in to see Starfire and resumed consuming the fruit. He reached into the bag, pulled out an apple and offered it to his teammate. Cyborg accepted and took a large bite out of it.

Both just sat there in silence finishing off their snacks. BeastBoy ate the rest of this banana, tossing the skin in the empty bag and broke the silence "You know there have been times where I've seriously questioned his judgements and decisions in the past. Every single time I've always thought that he had his head shoved so far up his ass that no amount of common sense would make him see any light. And you know what? Afterwards, I would always doubt myself whenever it turned out that he had the right idea and his suggestions worked. Even when they didn't I would always think that being the leader, he knew something I didn't, that he knew better than me. But this time . . ." the changeling didn't even finish his sentence, he just shook his head.

Cyborg gave a small snort before responding "This time doesn't even compare to this. Okay the situation here is worse than I can remember, but even so, the fact that he would not only abandon his girlfriend – the person who he supposedly loves and is the only important thing in his life – not only comes second to the mission, again. But also practically saying that he has zero faith in you pursuing the events down the candy store goes way beyond expectation; even by Robin's standards".

"Yeah and considering that Robin was going to ask Starfire to ma- . . ." BeastBoy paused mid-sentence.

Cyborg tilted his head in the direction of the changeling, noticing the stunned expression on his face and concluding that he was about to say something he wasn't supposed to.

"He was going to ask Starfire to . . . what?" Cyborg asked.

Bumbling around for an answer, BeastBoy couldn't see how he would get his way out of this one.

Cyborg probed again "B, what was Robin planning on asking Star to do?"

BeastBoy searched as best as he could for a convincing answer. But as usual, one didn't find its way into his head.

Noticing that he was desperately trying to find a satisfactory answer and that whatever he was about to say was serious – BeastBoy's expression didn't betray that fact – Cyborg took a punt. In his head it was a far-out punt, one that he seriously didn't think would be a right one, but he took it anyway "B, is Robin planning to propose to Star?"

BeastBoy gave a startled 'eep!' as Cyborg had rumbled him.

He only found out about Robin's plan through pure accident. One day he had managed to sneak into Robin's room in order to try and find something that he could blackmail the Boy Wonder with – it was Cyborg's idea to begin with if anyone asked him. As he was rifling through one of his desk drawers, he came across the ring box. At first he wondered why Robin had a ring box in his draw, but as he opened it a his eyes dazzled with the sight of the most stunning platinum ring accompanied by a diamond the size of his thumbnail, he immediately put two and two together and come to the assumption that Robin was planning on proposing to Starfire. He quickly snapped the ring box shut, put it back where he found it and left the room before he got busted. The older, much younger BeastBoy would have immediately used this piece of information to blackmail Robin into things beyond his wildest imagination. But the newer, much older BeastBoy knew better on this occasion as to not cross that particular line and decided to keep schtum about this.

Cyborg's voice snapped BeastBoy out of his funk "Well, is Robin planning on proposing to Starfire?"

"Yes, he is".

Both Cyborg and BeastBoy turned their heads immediately to the waiting room doors to see Raven standing there. They didn't know how long she had been standing there, nor the fact that Starfire's distressed cries had ceased.

"Raven, how do you . . ."

Before BeastBoy could finish his sentence, Raven cut him off "In a rare moment where he wasn't at his sharpest, he left the ring box open on his desk when I went in to have a conversation with him and made me swear to not tell anyone; that he wanted to make it a surprise for Starfire."

The news that Robin was going to propose to Starfire should have given him an uplifting feeling, but inside he was marred with discontent. Not because

_Why didn't they let me in on Robin's plans? BB and Raven are the closest things I have to brother ad sister and they chose not to let me in on this? Do they really not trust me with this? Again, left in the dark. Lil' old Cyborg the last to find out about anything important._

Shoving his resentment down to his cold, steel feet, he changed the subject swiftly "So how's Starfire?"

Raven's expression soured a little – more than it usually did – and answered "She's calmed down now. Angela's in their now just doing some procedural checks.

"I was just about to get her something to eat. You guys want anything?"

BeastBoy and Cyborg shook their heads in unison and with this, Raven went to the cafeteria.

Cyborg noticed that Raven's and BeastBoy's eyes held each other a lot longer than normal before she broke off. He also recognised that BeastBoy's forest green orbs stayed on the empath until she turned the corner and disappeared. Snapping him back into reality, Cyborg asked "So, you and Raven are friends again or what?"

The elderly female behind the cashier handed Raven the sandwich and coffee she ordered. She couldn't help but hide her obvious confusion mixed in with disgust as she passed the contents that were inside the brown paper bag which contained the sandwich. Raven could tell that the old woman thought she was joking when she asked for a tuna fish sandwich with French mustard, Greek yoghurt and raspberry preserve. Raven found this slightly amusing but didn't let on, just giving the woman a curt nod and thanks as she took the items from her.

As Raven made her way back to Starfire's room, her attention was diverted by the television that occupied the cafeteria. She stood there in shock as the television screen –which was on the local news station – showed even more horrific scenes of Jump City suffering another. The cameras showed scenes of an apartment building that was burning down to the ground as fire-fighters fought to try and contain the fire. The male reporter's voice that was dubbed over the scenes soft transitioned to the speakers face.

"Once again, our main story today: Jump City has become victim to a series of terrorist-style attacks and individual murders that have seen five people die. Police reports have yet to confirm whether these murders and terror attacks are related but rumours have started to circulate that his could possibly be the work of known serial-criminal, Deathstroke the Terminator, a.k.a. Slade"

Raven's pale complexion went even paler. Did she just her the news reporter correctly? Slade? She knew that Slade had disappeared after the events with Trigon; after that, no one had heard a peep from him. Was this really all his doing? How the hell has he been able to do all of this on his own without detection?

The male news reporter's voice chimed in again, "We now cut to Hilary Jenkins with new reports of another incident over Park Avenue"

The camera cut to the female reporter who was standing in a rural part of the city, where in the background, people gathered around the police tape the surrounded a house.

"Thanks Christian. I'm here on Park Avenue where the death toll has increased. Behind me . . ."

Robin winced as a paramedic carefully picked out splinters of glass out of his arm; most of his cuts and scrapes had been cleaned up. Despite the paramedic's constant probing concerning Robin's condition, Robin remained detached from reality. He was still wrapped up inside his head, still reeling from the sight that he bore witness to, still replaying the moment when the building Neiva was in became an inferno.

He was back. After months of illusiveness, he had returned. Slade. Why? What was his purpose for all of this? What was his motivation? This went beyond destroying the Titans. None of them had been targeted by Slade. He and his accomplice were targeting random, innocent people of Jump City. Why? Just what the hell was Slade planning? If this really is a scheme to destroy the Titans, then why are innocent people being killed?

Robin hadn't noticed that Chloe had returned to the ambulance that he was being treated in. It was her exasperated tone that ran in his ears but still failed to snap him out of his funk.

"Okay, if things couldn't get any worse, we've got another dead body on our hands. Some teenage kid in a café a few blocks away looks as though she was poisoned to death. I got Benson and Walker questioning everyone in there. I'm pretty damn sure though that it's that Ellie Illingworth that Slade mentioned on that disc you found and that Slade is responsible for her death." Chloe said.

As the sound of fire engine sirens filled the chaotic air, Chloe turned to survey the damage that had occurred. Shaking her head, she continued, "Resources are already stretched beyond their limits. Antwhistle's contacted the other officers over the incident that happened in the park and more officers, fire crew and paramedics are covering the other locations that Slade has hit.

"I just can't wrap my head around what's happening. What the hell is Slade doing this for?"

Chloe turned back to Robin, who was no longer receiving any treatment and was back to watching the contents of the disc he found. His face twisted in savage hatred as Slade's voice filled the ambulance. As he listed off the names of the people who had died, the name that didn't ring any bells for Chloe came up again.

_Iona Islington._ It was clear that she was another victim of Slade's terror, but she wasn't someone who was brought to the attention of the police department. Did Robin know who she was? If so, why haven't they reported it to the police? What was he hiding? Any information withheld from the police would not be appreciated; especially Lieutenant Brauner. Before she could ask Robin about this Iona woman, he spoke. His voice however was incredibly strained, tinged with a hint of hatred that equalled that to the hatred he had on his face.

"I need you to drive me somewhere".

As he made his way towards his next location Slade – not wearing the attire that the people of Jump City would associate his name with (no-one here knew what he looked like underneath so he didn't worry about being spotted) – gave a small smile as he observed his surroundings. The small rural area he currently occupied was relatively quiet, primarily because everyone – baring a few dog walkers and joggers – was in their homes, faces glued to their television screens and laptops and tablets. Out of all the houses where the television sets were visible, he didn't see a single one where it didn't show news coverage of the events that had occurred in the early morning up to the apartment explosion where Neiva had perished. The people on their laptop computers and tablets were more than definitely infiltrating their Facebook and Twitter accounts; all of them chiming in on the events that had happened.

Slade smirk grew even wider at the image of the Boy Wonder, racing heroically to try and save a woman who he presumed as still alive and carrying the burden of failure in his gut at the thought that he had failed. Once he and his accomplice had left the apartment and went their separate ways, he held back to watch as Robin sprinted towards the apartment and the moment he collapsed to the asphalt once the apartment became an inferno. He had hoped that he suffered more than emotional damage too. Just that extra bit of suffering on him physically, along with the emotional damage would eventually were him down, along with the rest of what he had planned ad he would get to the point of complete collapse; that would be when Slade would come in. Slade knew that he and Robin would eventually meet and then he would be able to show him his overall goal. The big picture.

But that would come later. For now, the next piece of the puzzle was to be laid and as Slade turned the next corner, on his way to his next destination. He shortly arrived at the house; a

Walking up the stone path, he made his way up a short flight of wooden steps that led to the front door of the detached house. He rapped his knuckles against the wooden door and waited patiently; briefcase grasped in one hand, his other in his trouser pocket, wrapped around the cold, metal handle of a pistol.

The door swung open slowly and standing at the door was a frail looking gentleman who was supporting himself with a walking stick. He looked up into Slade's eye and responded in a voice that matched his frailty, "Yes sir?"

Sliding the pistol out of his pocket, Slade pointed it in the direction of the elderly gentleman. He noticed the look of fear in the old man's eyes; the hand holding his walking stick quivering shaking uncontrollably.

"May I please come in?"

Tapping her nails against the steering wheel, _she_ waited patiently for the next piece of the puzzle to walk out of their house. After she and Slade had finished their work back at the apartment, she broke off after Slade had given her a picture of the person that was to be her next target and an envelope; a similar looking one to the one that Slade had placed on William Wilson's lifeless body and a plastic bag that held her next disguise. Once they left for their separate targets, she journeyed to a nearby back alley where a string of cars were parked. She picked out a car, a battered navy blue Ford Taurus. She wold have chosen something a little more classier – she wasn't exactly spoiled for choice – but decided on this one simply because it was the first one she came across where the driver side door was unlocked. She dropped the picture and envelope on the passenger seat then took out the items in her bag; a pair of darkened Ray-Bans and a black wig and disguised herself. It took barley half a minute for her to hotwire the car. As she drove away, she delighted in the scene in her rear-view mirror where a small herd of people ran in the direction of the apartment as it had been blown up the moment she pulled away from the parking spot.

And now here she was, still in her disguise, she saw her target walk out of his house; Adrian Ellis, twenty years old. Adrian took the pavement, gold Skullcandy headphones covering his ears, dressed in his work attire; a white buttoned shirt – unbuttoned at the top and his black tie tucked into his shirt pocket – black trousers and black shirt.

_Perfect, he won't hear a thing and dressed reasonably well for his death. Over within a matter of seconds._

Connecting the wires back together, the Ford coughed into life, she released the handbrake and began to rev the vehicle. Despite the fact that Adrian wasn't the only person on the pavement, this didn't detract her from her duty. Any other civilian casualties were irrelevant, as long as Adrian perished. To everyone else, this seemed like a senseless massacre of random people, but she knew that this was much more than senseless killings. All of these were tiny jigsaw pieces that would all come together in time and would spell out something much bigger.

The big picture. That's what this would all eventually lead to.

_It's all part of the big picture._

The humming of the police car's engine was the only sound that filled the silence that filled it; all except the echo of Slade's voice emanating from Robin's communicator. Giving the young superhero the occasional glance, Chloe was eager to find out exactly what he was hiding from her. She had heard that being Batman's ex-protégé had instilled a determined, detective style demeanour and attitude. Admirable yes, however, she herself knew that that style had the ability rub people up the wrong way. She had worked with people who, whilst probably not on the same level as Robin, had withheld resorted to sneaky behaviours and tactics and have withheld information from her and her superiors in order to gain an upper hand over said superiors. It was always those types of dick waving contests that Chloe hated. She had grown to accept that those things were always going to occur in any line of work but it still baffled her tat the fact that they were part of the same team always played second fiddle to that persons pride.

Every time Chloe was about to bring up the questions that concerned the contents of the disc, Robin kept rewinding the disc. She had lost count of the amount of times he had done this. All she knew that after the third time of asking about who Iona Islington was and after she kept being meet with the same wall of silence, she just gave up.

Eventually, the constant whirring of the disc got on her nerves to the point where she eventually broke the empty air, 'I don't mean to pry but surely you watching that disc over and over again isn't doing you any favours'.

As she predicted, Robin ignored the police officers advice as he stopped the recording and replayed the clip again. He did however respond to Chloe, only asking her how far they were from the destination that Slade left on the disc. She responded – initially with a frustrated sigh – by informing him that they were no more than a minute away.

Sitting at a STOP sign, Chloe looked left and saw nothing approaching, looked right and saw a blue car speeding right past them rather quickly. Looking right, she noticed that a small congregation of people gathering, looking left she looked at the blue car that was beginning to fade out of view. Something didn't feel right. The blue car sped out of view very quickly but from the brief view she got, she was convinced that the car's windscreen was shattered and that there was a sizeable dent at the front of the car.

"The road's clear Chloe" Robin's voice filled Chloe's ears as she continued to stare down the road. Eventually, she turned right and journeyed to the destination on the disc; the exact destination where the group of people were gathering.

Chloe stopped a couple houses away and she and Robin stepped out the car and made their way towards the crowd.

An elderly woman approached Chloe, panic and distraught etched all over her face, almost yelling 'Officer, thank God you've arrived, something awful has just happened'

Chloe could see what had happened. A small gap in the crowd gave way to the officer and the young superhero and both of their eyes rested on the lifeless body of a young man who looked no older the eighteen, his legs were mangled and his head lolled loosely to the left. Chloe had seen some sights today but this one was by far the worst. Her ears were filled with the wails and cries of men, women and children alike. She could also hear people retching at the sight of this poor kid and she was tempted to join them. But she had to try her damnedest to maintain some level of control and level-headedness.

"Okay ladies and gentlemen, I'm gonna need you to keep your assistance and compliance. I really need you to keep your distance from this young man. In the meantime . . .'

As Chloe gave instructions to the public, Robin had already taken the envelope that he found loosely grasped in the young man's. Opening the flap which had been glued shut, he pulled out another disc, identical to the one he found in the first envelope. Opening the disc compartment in this communicator, he removed the first disc that was already in the compartment, slipped that one into his belt and placed the second one in. Pressing the 'Play' button, Slade's masked face appeared on screen. Bile found its way from the put of Robin's stomach and gathered in the back of his throat as the sound of the public's cries seemed to dissipate as they were replaced with the assassin's.

"_Greeting once again Titan's"_

**END**

_My apologies for the delay; better late than never I guess._

_Getting back into the swing of things has been a little tough and I can't help but feel that this chapter is a little rushed. What do you guys think? Be honest and give me your opinions of this chapter._

_Giving it some consideration, if I'm going to be delivering the best that I can, these chapters need a little more time._

_So, I'll try and get the proceeding chapter up every 4-6 weeks. Maybe a little quicker but hat will depend on the speed I write and providing you guy with work that's worth sticking with. But I won't speed chapters out that are utter crap; you guys deserve better than that._

_Until next time . . ._


	14. Chapter 12: A Small Breakthrough?

**CHAPTER TWELVE: A SMALL BREAKTHROUGH?**

**_11.00 am_**

Taking another sip of his steaming hot coffee, Slade locked his vision on the terrified man sitting across from him. Slade maintained a charming grin on his face as he lowered the cup back onto the table, amused at the gentleman's visible fear as his hand rested on the gun; his index finger stroking the barrel.

"Do you know which country consumes the most coffee?" was all Slade said.

Confusion quickly swept over the elderly man's face. In a voice that didn't betray the look of fear on his face, he simply replied "I beg your pardon?"

Pointing at his cup, Slade reiterated, "The country that consumes the most coffee". He took another sip of his drink. "No idea?"

The elderly gentleman shook his head. What exactly does this guy want? He turns up on my doorstep brandishing a weapon, asks for coffee and starts this idle chat about coffee. Just what is this?

Slade chuckled before answering his own question, "It's Finland. Almost three times that of the United States. Everywhere you go, you cannot escape the scent of freshly ground coffee seeds. Nice country. Ever been?"

The elderly gentleman was now dumbfounded. What the hell did this guy want?

"I have to say, my favourite location has to be the Repovesi National Park. It used to be an area where it was used for forestry but now it's an open attraction. Very popular with climbers but the real attraction is the River Koukunjoki. I remember rented a small boat and spending hours on the waters; absorbing the scenery and the sounds. Personally, I do not believe that there is anything else in this world that is as beautiful as that place. The pure tranquillity is nothing like I've ever experienced before and the variety of animals that inhabit the Park is wonderful."

Slade took a big gulp of the muddy coloured liquid and sighed in relief; swirling the remainder of the cups contents before downing the rest.

"Thank you or your hospitality Mr Peters, I do appreciate it"

This had gone on long enough the elderly gentleman thought, "Just what is your business here? And how do you know who I am?"

Maintaining his grin, Slade answered, "Do forgive me Mr. Peters, my name is Slade"

"I know who you are. I said how do you . . .?"

"I know a lot about you Mr. Peters. Your name is Ernest Peters, born February 11, 1936 to William Peters, who tragically died on June 24, 1942 whilst serving for the U.S. Navy and Tabitha Groves, who worked as an Army Nurse during the Second World War; she died August 9, 1976 due to natural causes. You're a widower. Your wife, Hilda Kalinowski, whom you met when she and her family were one of the few fortunate families to come to America before the war commenced, was your first and last love. Married when the both of you were seventeen, alas, she perished five years ago to stomach cancer. You have three children, Mary, aged forty-eight, James, aged forty-four and Victoria, aged thirty-nine. Grandfather of five, soon to be six."

A stunned Ernest Peters looked on in awe at how much this man knew about him in such personal detail. Before he could ask any more questions, Slade stood up and said, "Now, whilst I would love to stay and talk, I must be leaving. For I am a very busy man and I have plenty of work to do. I really do appreciate your hospitality and you have been a fine host given the circumstances."

Slade dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a silencer and began screwing it onto the end of the firearm.

Now trembling in abject fear and predicting what was going to happen, Ernest began to plead, only to be cut off by Slade who held out a flat hand and made a 'shh' noise, quieting the old man.

"You asked why I was here. Well, you see, I am here because you are an integral part of my plan Mr. Peters. You are probably very well aware that all of these attacks on Jump City as well as some of its citizens. Well, I can assure you that they are not mindless acts of violence and terror, nor are they senseless in any way shape or form. No, they are in fact leading up to something much bigger than anyone in this city could imagine. These attacks are all by my hand and for good reason. They have a purpose and it is my honour to tell you that you are to join those who have fallen before you."

As Slade raised the gun, aiming at Ernest's head, he noted a stream of tears rushing down the man's face as his fate was standing in front of him.

"Soon enough, there will be such a grand spectacle, that Jump City, the United States of America, the entire world will forever live to fear, the name Slade Wilson. It's a shame that you will not be there to witness it. But don't worry Mr Peters; your death will not have been in vain"

_***SCENE BREAK***_

There was so much activity occurring on the cameras, that she didn't know where to look first. One moment she was hooked on the fire-fighters finally quelling the fires at Caspar's, the next she was to the fire-fighters attempting to bring an end to the apartment explosion that Neiva Campbell's body was now a charred husk, then she was drawn to the commotion over Adrian Ellis's corpse where Robin and some police officer were, then to the park where forensic officers were dealing with Hannah Young's corpse and who could forget old man Stimpson, whose body right now was being brought out in a black body bag.

Each and every section of the city where she and Slade would strike had been covered meticulously. So many months of planning, every conceivable angle researched, revised and covered, making certain that no mistakes had been made and that they would be rumbled. Of course, it would've been nearly impossible to do everything in one day, so they had to prepare in advance. This included finding their victims locations, studying their movements and then making their plans in how they would carry out their attacks.

To the outsider, the people who had died were "innocents", just some random people who were being picked off one by one. But this wasn't the case, they were chosen for a particular reason. They all had one thing in common and they would soon reveal the grand plan and if the cards had been played correctly and the Titans were smart enough to follow the breadcrumbs, they would be witnesses to history in the making; a dawn of a new era; the beginning of the end of everything.

Checking the clock that hung on the wall to her left, she saw that the time was coming up to quarter-to-midday, fifteen minutes until the next piece of the puzzle slotted into place. Her eyes turned to the screen that showed the image of detached house, situated in a much more affluent area of Jump City. It was the home of twenty-eight year old Tazmin Ripley; who was at this very moment, pulling into her driveway. She watched as Tazmin, got out her car, opened the trunk of her Mercedes Benz and removed some grocery bags, shut the trunk and made her way to the house.

As much as she was anticipating the moment the house went up in flames, her eyes began to give up on her – she had been awake for well over twenty four hours and she knew she had to get some sleep. Weariness would lead to mistakes and she couldn't afford any of those. Cursing that she was unable to keep her eyes open longer than five seconds, she finally retired to a nearby mattress.

She covered herself up with a blanket and laid her had on the pillow, feeling the hairclip press against her skull ever so slightly.

The hairclip.

A shrill of exhilaration filled her body, the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head. Remembering the brief contact of Slade's hand against her hair warmed her more than the blanket that covered her body.

Strictly business is what he said. Straight from the beginning, it had always been 'strictly business' and nothing would get in the way of the ultimate goal. At first she agreed to help him, more than happy to keep everything professional and not allow any personal from creeping up inside and blindsiding the end result. But having spent day after day, night after night, hour after hour in his company, rarely, if ever, leaving his side, the relentless hour upon hour of planning, researching, setting up the cameras, acquiring the materials for the explosives, the notes, the identities and the down-to-the-tee movements and personal information on their victims. There was no way on heaven or earth that they could spend so much time with each other that nothing was going to come of this. No way that he would use her, then abandon her after all of this was over. Would he? Surely not. No! No way. She knew that his could demeanour, his demonic intent in achieving his ambitions, his goals, would not cause him to be so cold to the point that he would turn her away. She was in too deep now for him to throw her away.

_Yes, of course. I'm in too deep. There's no way that he would do something like that to me. He's a monster, but so am I. we're perfect for each other. He knows we are. He can't act the way he has and not feel anything. If I feel something, surely he does? He must know._

These thoughts lingered with her up until the very moment she drifted off to sleep.

The house that Tazmin Ripley lived was now engulfed in flames.

_***SCENE BREAK***_

Chloe estimated that the original crowd that had surrounded her and Robin moments ago had quadrupled in size, making the situation she was facing rather claustrophobic and testing. Have a swarm of people closing you in, bombarding you with a myriad of questions, pushing and shoving just to grab a glimpse of what had happened was a part of the job that aggrieved Chloe the most. Of course it was instinct for people to clamber in and stick their noses in situations like this; situations where respect for the casualty had completely evaporated. Despite constant pleas to the crowd to back off and give some space for the approaching ambulance was near impossible. The hordes of people who kept pushing, she was tempted to shove back, but she dare not and risk being charged with some trumped up assault charge; despite the situation itself, there was bound to be some prick who would do exactly that. Those who had got their phones out and were either taking photos or videos of the corpse; the desire to rip them out of their hands and reduce them into a thousand pieces was tempting. Bu she knew that she had to show restraint, remain calm in this situation and not exacerbate the situation even further.

Calling from over her shoulder, Chloe tried beckoning Robin to give her a hand, "Robin, you think you could give me a hand over here?" A brief glance saw Robin's back turned, ignoring the pleas from her, face nigh-on buried in his communicator.

"Yo, Robin, a hand. Please." No reply still.

_" . . . I will look forward to meeting you in due course; that is, of course, if you ever find me. Goodbye, Titans"._

The screen on Robin's communicator cut to black and was instantly replaced by static. The grip he had on the communicator was almost strong enough to break the device in half. Hatred, pure and unadulterated, filled every inch of his body. Slade was sitting in the shadows, like the coward he was, watching, loving every second of what was going on, plotting his next move, waiting to reappear, do his work, then disappear again, taunting Robin at any opportunity he had. Knowing that he was not able to do a damn thing about it was what made Robin angriest of all.

_You just keep on gloating Slade. I will find you, and I promise, even if it's the last thing I do, I will make you pay for what you've done._

Her words may not have bought Robin out of his state of concentration, but a slight shake of his shoulders did. He did a double take (and almost struck out at her, but managed to restrain himself) and looked at Chloe's worn out face as she said, "The ambulance has just arrived Robin. I have to get some perspective to what happened here. I'm going to need your help in getting some witness statements . . ." Robin drew his eyes to what must have been at least a hundred people swarming around paramedics, attempting to put the young man's body on the gurney despite the swarm of people sticking their noses in their business, " . . . so could you do that for me Robin? Robin? Hello?"

Stuttering, Robin replied, "Huh?"

"Reinforcements. The two of us aren't going to manage these people alone, we need more officers down here. I know we're stretched as it is but we need help. I'll call reinforcements and you start with finding out any persons here who can tell us what happened."

But helping Chloe was not his first priority as far as he was concerned. Chloe had made her way to the police car and was already calling for assistance. Once she had finished she saw the Boy Wonder walking away from the crowd of people . . . no, actually, it was more like limping away.

"Robin, where are you going? What are you . . .?"

"Slade. He's killed another person. I have to go."

Looking in bewilderment, first at Robin then turning her around back toward the crowd and did this two more times before calling out, "Are you serious? Robin, I can't deal with these people on my own."

Trying his best to start some sort of jog, Robin yelled back, "Your colleagues are coming. You said they'd help you."

That was not what she said, but was not going to argue with Robin right now, she was too frustrated to be bothered to argue, and that's not what was needed right now.

"Robin, you can't just . . . where are . . . get back here . . . Rob . . ."

But he was gone.

"Oh, well that's just . . ." She pressed on her communicator button, "This is Sergeant McAdams, where the hell are those reinforcements?"

_***SCENE BREAK***_

Cyborg and BeastBoy stood peering through their respective window pane, watching Dr. Eric Lloyd trying to coax Starfire into staying in her bed and fully recuperate. When Raven had left to collect some food for the group, Cyborg noticed that Starfire was out of her bed, slightly uncoordinated and stumbling about her room. He and BeastBoy both went in to tell her to remain in her bed and that Raven would be back with their food shortly. Despite their pleas, Starfire insisted that she was fine, that she was no longer hungry and that she wanted to leave the hospital and find Robin. After some time, the doctor came back into the room and took over proceedings. He talked to her for a while, performing a few tasks which included shining a torch in her eyes and a few other optometry tests.

Some more time passed and from the looks of things, the doctor seemed to give into the Tamaranian's stubbornness and accepted her request. Eric turned his eyes towards the window panes and beckoned her teammates into the room, minus Raven. Once the two males entered the room, the doctor started to explain, "Well, despite my pleas, your friend said that she doesn't wish to stay here any longer, that she's thankfully for our help but that she's fine and wants to re-join Robin. I've explained to her that she would be better off resting a little longer, but if she wishes to leave gentlemen, I have no power to keep her against her will."

Consigned to the fact that Starfire would not take no for an answer, Cyborg and BeastBoy nodded their heads in acceptance to Starfire's decision. Both went over to her to help her stand, but she held up a flat palm, indicating that she could stand on her two feet without their assistance. She wobbled slightly as she tried to do so, all three males in the room coming to her aide at once, but again, she rejected any sort of help. After a couple more moments, she began moving reasonably well, a slight stumble here or there, but eventually she managed to maintain a stable stance.

"Star, are you certain that you want to leave?" BeastBoy asked the doctor, some uncertainty tinged in his voice.

She nodded slowly, clearly in some discomfort whilst nodding.

Eric piped up, "She should be alright in the next few hours. Her visions not impaired, blurred or hindered by bright lights. She may be slightly off balance for a little while and movement might not be as rapid but that'll pass eventually and she should be able to move more freely. Thankfully, she hasn't suffered anything too major, no convulsions, speech seems to be good, shes able to maintain attention well enough, and no cases of vomiting . . . all in all, she got away without any severe damage being caused. In fact, she's recovering quicker than most humans do after suffering concussion; must be in her genetics", he said that last piece with a heavy hint of amazement and astonishment.

Before he left the room, Leo turned backed and added, "Oh, I think you should know that news reporters and paparazzi have been hanging around the reception since it was announced that you four were here. I figured you'd want a heads up."

All three Titans showed appreciative glances before thanking the doctor for his work and asked him if he could give their thanks to Leo, Melissa, Angela and Matthew for their work as well. Eric thanked the Titans for their appreciation, promised to relay their thanks onto his colleagues and wished them good luck with finding the person responsible for putting their friend in hospital and who was responsible for the many other deaths. And with that, he left the room.

The three Titans did not need to wait long before Raven made her way back to them. They were slightly on edge when they saw the empath sprinting back to them. Before any of them could ask what was up, Raven spilled the news; that there had been more attacks in the city centre and that Slade had moved onto the rural area of Jump City.

The pained faces etched on the three Titans immediately; just how the hell is Slade doing all this in such a short amount of time? And over a vast space of city?

Cyborg broke the silence, "Where did the recent attack take place Raven?"

"Park Avenue" Raven replied.

"Okay, looks like we'll have start there"

"Has Robin contacted you guys yet?"

Raven did not need a reply from the guys, the sour look on their faces said more than words could. This was when Raven noticed Starfire being supported by BeastBoy.

"Starfire, what are you doing out of bed?"

BeastBoy answered, "She said that she didn't want to be here any longer. That she was fine and she wanted to go find Robin."

"Starfire, are you sure that . . .?"

Starfire broke of Raven mid-sentence, "Raven, I am fine. The nice Doctor Eric told me that I have not suffered anything major, nor am I as badly injured as I could have been. In fact, he said that I should be fine in a short while."

Raven was not totally certain that the Tamaranian should be on her feet, but from the look Starfire gave her, she was not going to argue with her.

"Umm, Raven, do you think that you could teleport us to Park Avenue?" BeastBoy asked.

An incredulous look filled Raven's features as she looked at the green teen and asked, "Why?"

"Eric told us that news reporters have been filling up the reception ever since it was announced that we were here. I think it best for all of us, Starfire in particular, that we avoid them all" Cyborg said.

"Friends, I am fine. I do not mind to . . ." Starfire began.

Raven interrupted, "No Starfire, it's okay. I'll be able to teleport us there."

"Are you sure Raven? You're not too hurt from . . . well . . ." BeastBoy stuttered.

Truthfully, Raven was feeling more emotionally stable now and she had been able to recover from her injuries much more efficiently. "I'm fine BeastBoy, I wasn't hurt that badly. A few scratches won't affect my teleportation abilities."

"I know that, I'm just concerned, that's all."

Raven was touched by BeastBoy's concern, but was able to subdue these feelings – despite her 'Happy' roaming gleefully inside her – before acknowledging his words, "Thanks for your concern BeastBoy." Before she formed her black aura, Raven told Starfire, "Starfire, you may feel a little dizzy from this. Slight brain damage can sometimes cause some side effects because of teleportation."

Starfire smiled at Raven before trying to assure her, "Believe me Raven, I will be alright"

"Yeah, besides, look at grass-stain, he hasn't suffered from your teleportation Raven . . . much" Cyborg joked.

"Hey!" BeastBoy exclaimed.

All four Titans – minus BeastBoy – laughed before being enveloped in the black aura.

_***SCENE BREAK***_

Once Slade had shot Ernest Peters, he opened up his briefcase and pulled out one of the many explosive devices inside (an insurance policy) and timed it to go off in two minutes; plenty of time for him to leave the house and work his way to the entrance to his hideout that were scattered around town. Throughout the course of planning today's events, Slade had to make sure that he and his accomplice had a sure-fire way of getting back to the hideout unnoticed, undetected and with efficiency. There were twenty-five overall and he had them all memorized. Once he left the house, he turned right and went down until he reached the end of the block. He began to cross the road and that was when the house exploded. He didn't even turn around, he just grinned as the people around him ran past him, gravitating toward the inferno behind him. He did however look over his shoulder to see the combination of orange and yellow flame dance over the top of the surrounding buildings.

A short walk later, Slade left the rural area and reached the edge of the city. Panic was not as rife on the edge of this part of the city since nothing had happened here, but it was quite desolate, since the people here were herded like sheep in one of the many diners, restaurants, pubs and coffee shops, all of them transfixed by the events that were being shown on the televisions, or they were in their homes, or they had left and gone into the more central part of the city so they could see the events for themselves first hand. This made Slade chuckle slightly under his breath; how even in the city's most vulnerable and terrified state, the people here would happily go towards the apparent danger, just to get a front row seat of other people's misery. And they had the nerve to call him 'sick'? How ironic.

Slade made his way down an alleyway, towards a dumpster and slinked behind it. Giving a quick glance around to make sure that no-one was in the alleyway at the time or was staring down the alleyway, lifted up the loose drain cover and moved it to one side, briefcase in one hand, he lowered himself in the system using his free arm to hold himself onto the concrete and dropped deftly onto the narrow concrete walkway below; making sure he got a good lungful of clean air before he ventured into the underground. He walked a short way before stopping, crouching and began tapping at the walls. Once he tapped he area where the bricks were loose, he removed many of the bricks before he revealed the hole that had been burrowed many months back – one that the news reporters put down to one of the many 'unusual earth tremors' that were happening at the time – that was connected to the hideout. He pushed his briefcase through and shortly he followed, placing the bricks back in their place before leaving. Feeling for the briefcase, he unclasped it and began gently feeling around before his hand landed on the small LED torch. Removing the torch, is turned it on closed the briefcase, picked it up and began to make his way down the smoothly burrowed pathway.

When Slade arrived at the hideout, he was welcomed by the sight of the dimly lit area, the series of television sets that showed the numerous goings on all throughout the city and his accomplice, who was huddled up in the makeshift bed. The sight of her made Slade smile. He was proud of her. When he first recruited her, he was uncertain that this would ever work, he was uncertain that she would comply or, when she did agree that she would be able to carry out her part in this plan. But so far, she had, and she had done so better than he could have imagined. Her tenacity, determination and force of will, combining all these elements made her a dangerous yet reliable force . . . and a rather frightening one to boot.

He slowly walked over to the bed, taking careful steps, making sure that he did not wake her; she had already had a long day and she needed as much rest as necessary. Once he reached the head of her bed, he lowered himself down until he was on one knee. Gently as he could, he removed a strand hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He drew back when she stirred slightly; a small smile slowly rose from the corners of her mouth.

'Strictly business', that was what he told her straight from the off and that's exactly how he felt from the beginning. However, the relentless work that they put into creating this plan, preparing it and making sure that every detail, no matter how trivial was addressed and dealt with, with a fine toothcomb inevitably bought the two of them closer than he first envisaged. Naturally he knew that emotions were going to play a part in their 'relationship' and he knew that as the months went by and she was thirsty to prove that she was capable to performing any task he entrusted her with, over time she began to feel something for him. Initially he saw this as charming but inconsequential since he only had one objective in mind. Nevertheless, he would be lying if he said that over time, he didn't entertain the idea. Of course, he never let on and would tease her about this – the incident in the café and apartment for example – and her reactions would always be amusing to him.

But he knew that he could not afford to be sloppy now. There was so much at stake and any form of distraction could be fatal to the plan. He would have control over this situation and would not allow it to go any further. After the plan comes to it conclusion, all the authorities under the sun will come looking for the two of them and would not stop until they were either put in prison for their actions, or were killed. But before they had the chance to do so, Slade and his accomplice will be long gone from Jump City and would never be found, that was a guaranteed fact. After the plan succeeds, he and his accomplice . . . well, who knew what would happen after that.

She stirred again and Slade decided that it would be best to leave her to sleep. He would have to wake her up in the next few hours, but until that then, he would change his outfit and observe the screens and watch his . . . _their_ work, unfold.

_***SCENE BREAK***_

Robin did not need to keep referring back to the disc to find the place where he needed to go, the billowing black smoke that lingered in the air beckoned him towards his destination. Although it couldn't have been any more than a mile away, what felt like an hour for Robin to get there – when in reality, it was actually slightly more than ten minutes to effectively limp to the location – Robin sighed a breath of relief when he eventually arrived on Park Avenue; he cursed himself mentally, one for his twisted ankle and the other for not having the foresight to bring his motorcycle into the city.

He was welcomed with the sight of a pyre, bright yellow and orange flames danced delicately around the construct of a detached house as fire-fighters fought the flames; although not having as much difficulty with this fire like they did with the one at Caspar's and the apartment complex in the city centre, the fire put up a decent fight. He also noticed that the fire-fighters were joined by a small herd of people, all aghast to what was happening, few of them shielding their eyes from the intense heat, some shed tears, but the majority just stood in awe, probably stunned that the events that had occurred in the city had spread to their idyllic rural space.

The sound of a blaring vehicle horn caused Robin to jump out of skin as it tore right past him and watched as the driver slammed on the brakes hard; smoking rising from the wheels and several people came bundling out of the van. Robin didn't recognise any of them until one particular person climbed out. The middle-aged woman with hair that was as black as the night sky but tinged with hints of grey, wearing an all-black suit, the infamous Hilary Jenkins. Robin had his fair share of run-ins with the news reporter in the past, concerning the illusive Slade – bile rose in his mouth again but resisted the urge to spit, so instead swallowed it bitterly – and his numerous disappearances whenever they came close to capturing him; especially after the Trigon incident, the disappearance of the Titans during the pursuit of the Brotherhood of Evil and how the Titans just left Jump City vulnerable to attacks at any time, day or night, a whole laundry list of things that gave Robin a headache just thinking about coming face-to-face with Jenkins. He watched as Jenkins and her crew began setting up their equipment to record, sickened that they lacked any consideration whatsoever; surely they could have waited until the fire had died down or something.

Since he Robin could not do anything until the fires had ended, he hung back, checked that no one was around him (he was quite some distance away and didn't think that anyone had seen him arrive) and replayed the second disc that Slade left for him.

The disc finished rewinding and he hit the play button.

_"Greetings once again Titans. I do hope that are not too distraught from today's events, nor that you are too tired. It would be a shame should any of you suffer any unfortunate injuries that prevent you from reaching me before sunrise tomorrow. _

_"For you see, I want you to find me. I want you to witness what I have planned; the countless months I have spent in perfecting what will be the most memorable event in American history. And I want you to see it for yourselves. All those times where you have failed to stop me will pale into insignificance by the end of the day._

_"Come and find me Robin, my former apprentice. Once the wheels starting turning in your head, only then will you have a chance to end this._

_"I will look forward to meeting you in due course; that is, of course, if you ever find me. Goodbye, Titans"._

Static filled the screen. That was it. Unlike the last disc, this one did not show any location to go to, who the latest victims were, or what their names were and no cryptic message or hint to where Slade was or where he was going to strike next, just a taunt. That last sentence specifically directed at Robin. Robin seethed quietly, the taunt that Slade made about him being his ex-apprentice, how he was so far behind Slade regarding his location or what Slade's ultimate plan was. It was something that would be the most memorable event in American history? What on earth could it involve? Who could it involve? Obviously being Slade it would only lead to destruction and chaos. Was this to do with the Titans only? Was there something much bigger he was striving for? What could be bigger than destroying the very team that has thwarted him on countless occasions?

That must be it. The Titans were the constant thorn in Slade's side and removing them once and for all . . . what could be bigger than that? The total annihilation of The Teen Titans. Nothing was bigger than that as far as Slade was concerned.

Robin was so deep in thought that he did not notice the person standing behind him. Quietly breathing in his ear was the thirty-something, dark haired female news reporter that was the last person Robin wanted any interaction with.

"That sounded interesting"

Robin spun around to see Hilary Jenkins peering over his shoulder, staring intently at the yellow device he was holding in his hand, before she brought her milk chocolate coloured eyes onto Robin's masked ones.

"So Slade has something else planned that he says is going to be the biggest event in our history. Well, that's going to have to be something big, right Robin?" Hilary said in an almost cheerful tone.

Tucking the communicator into his belt, Robin replied, "Ms Jenkins, taking a break from bumping up your ratings?"

Not breaking her smirk, Hilary answered, "Freedom of the press is something I hold dear to me young man. In this game, nothing should hold you back. Plus, the public have a right to know anything that would no doubt affect their lives, health and wellbeing. No holds barred."

Robin smirked in retaliation, "Aspirational, Ms Jenkins. Julian Assange was aspirational too and look what happened to him". He watched as her face dropped slightly.

It was common knowledge that Hilary Jenkins was one of the very few in the journalism industry in Jump City to come out and vocally support Julian Assange through the WIkiLeaks scandal and what he did. Naturally, the hostility she faced was relentless, receiving threats and hate mail on a constant basis; even to this day she still received these on a daily basis. Even with the threat of being fired from her journalism occupation, not once did she falter, apologise or switch her stance. Robin could at least respect Jenkins on that level and the fact that she still turned out to do her work despite such hostility was admirable; something that Robin could relate to, but the fact that there were people who were willing to risk lives in order for the truth, well . . . sometimes in order to keep stability and equanimity in a society, it was necessary to keep the truth hidden from Joe Public as far as Robin was concerned.

Choosing to rise above that comment, Hilary said stoically, "Look, my job is to report the truth to the public, whether you agree with my beliefs and methods or not. Right now, Slade is planning something. Don't you think that the public have the right to know so that they can prepare themselves? Hell, maybe they could help you . . . I could help you, if you help me."

"I'm not going to argue ethics with you right now Ms Jenkins, but surely you know that the public's best option is to not apprehend someone like Slade. He isn't the kind of person who's going to be sloppy and reveal his location, nor would he allow anyone who sees him let the authorities know of his whereabouts; we've seen already what he'll do to them if they try that. As far as helping me, I recommend that you stay out of my way, and let me do my job."

Hilary expected that kind of cold, detached and self-important response from the superhero. She did not doubt his abilities as a hero (he had been trained by Batman for Christ's sake) but his way of dealing with this scenario struck her as being wrong. Where were his teammates? Why was he on his own? Was he going all Lone Ranger? She had reported that Starfire had been taken to hospital with Raven in tow. All five were practically family, all inseparable, yet Robin was here on his own. Where were the other four? Why was he not at the hospital with Starfire? Where were the other two male Titans? Hilary thought of this as rather odd. Robin's sense of duty was apparent, but she always thought that ever since the incident in Tokyo, his severe tenacity had been toned down, especially after he and Starfire became an item. Clearly that was not the case.

Hilary let Robin's words sink in before responding, "Well, if that's the way you want it, fine with me"

Robin retained eye-contact with the news reporter up until the point she turned to walk back to her van. He breathed a sigh of relief that he got the woman away from him. Did she not realise that the last thing he needed was for ordinary citizens getting in Slade's way? He had already showed that he has no regards for human life already and anyone who got in his way today was just a sitting duck as far as he was concerned. She would be thankful that he turned her away by the end of the day. Besides, in what way would she be of any assistance to him? He knew her too well to trust anything she had to say. He was familiar with that type of news reporter, someone who was willing to step on and over people in order to bolster her position in the industry she was in. the fact that she managed to make her way to almost every single incident and almost every location Slade had struck showed a tenacity for glory and reward.

_"I could help you, if you help me"_

_How could she help me in any way? She'd have to have something of some worth that could be of assistance. What though? Does she know something that I don't? Did she find something out at one of the places Slade struck? Does she know something about the victims? Wait a minute . . . _

Robin remembered something. Back at the police station, when he was being directed to Chloe's office, they passed through the stations cafeteria, he remembered the television set hanging on the wall; it was showing the broadcast of the explosion on Steinhouse Avenue, the street where Saira Thurman once lived. He froze as footage showed the scene where Starfire and Raven were sent flying after the explosion, including the moment where Starfire went head first into the fire hydrant; Robin could still feel the impact of that blow hit his stomach, making him feel sick.

Didn't Jenkins say that the footage was recorded on a camera phone? Someone caught the footage before the explosion. Someone was there. Waiting? They knew the explosion was going to happen. Slade!

_Oh my god_, Robin thought.

Hilary and her crew had long packed their equipment back in their van and were already moving away from the almost extinguished fire. She was angry about Robin's impertinence toward her. Okay, she would be lying if she said that she wanted the kids help and not benefit from it career-wise, nevertheless, bringing down a criminal like Slade, especially after what he had done today, would be a moral victory above anything else; regardless of any reward o perk that would undoubtedly come after it. She truly was there for the people despite how they felt about her and her beliefs or whatever disparaging articles were written about her. She lolled her head onto her shoulder and her eyes focused on the wing mirror. She perked up at the sight of a young man in a traffic light costume limping rather pathetically, trying to catch up to the van.

"Andy, Andy, stop the van. Stop the van, now" she called out to her driver, who looked at her with a confused expression before complying. A smirk drew on her face as the young Titan caught up to the vehicle, panting, clearly in some form of distress due to his apparent injury. She leaned on the van door and said, "Ah, young Robin, yes?"

In between pants Robin wheezed out, "Hilary, the explosion on Steinhouse Avenue. The victim was Saira Thurman."

Hilary raised her eyebrows and replied, "Yes?"

"Someone took footage of the explosion on a camera phone. Remember?"

"Ah, yes, I do."

"The person who gave you the footage, what did he look like?

"He? Oh no, it was a young woman who gave me the phone. I had only been there . . ."

This made Robin stand up straight. A young woman? No, it couldn't be. Slade was behind this. Surely Hilary was wrong?

". . . after a short while, we transferred the footage onto our computer and broadcasted it. Robin? Hello? Are you there?"

Robin returned to the present moment, "A woman gave you the footage? Are you sure?"

With a quizzical look on her face, Hilary replied, "of course I'm sure"

A young woman? That didn't make sense. Slade was responsible for these deaths. Surely Hilary was wrong. There was no way that . . .

_The old woman's house._

He remembered now. Back at Iona's house, BeastBoy noted the faint scent of a perfume, one that was not distinct to the elderly woman, nor a perfume that she owned.

Was Slade being helped? Was it the same young woman who took the footage?

"Do you still have the phone Hilary? Is it in this van?" Robin asked, anxious that he finally had a breakthrough.

"Uh, no" Hilary saw Robin's face immediately drop, "after that report, we left and went back to our office. The phone will be there."

This was it. This was the breakthrough that Robin needed to find Slade. The phone could give him something to work with.

"Hilary, I need that phone. Could you take me to your workplace?"

Now it was Hilary's turn to smirk, "So now you want my help? I thought you said that you didn't . . ."

Robin lost his cool slightly as he cut Hilary off, "I know what I said, I know okay. Hilary now isn't the time to be screwing me around. The city is in danger and this phone could be the difference between Slade being stopped and more people suffering by his hand. Please, I need your help. I promise I'll help you with whatever you need or want."

It was impossible for Hilary's smile to be any bigger than it already was. She just simply opened the door, slid over and said, "Hop in superhero".

**_END OF CHAPTER_**


End file.
